Blue Sun Job
by Guildsister
Summary: Mal and Zoe decide to rob the Blue Sun treasury. The job strains and reveals their relationship and past.
1. Chapter 1: Plans and Schemes

_**Blue Sun Job**: Plans and Schemes  
_靑日_Job: Plans and Schemes_

Sequel to Truthsome

* * *

Chinese:  
It amused me to use the actual Chinese characters throughout. Don't worry if you don't want to look them up or your browser doesn't read them correctly, no critical dialog, just a few exclamatory words and phrases--most should be obvious from the punctuation and context  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?  
哎呀! Ai ya! damn!  
疯了 fong luh crazy  
鬼 guay hell _

* * *

_

**Chapter 1**

"Well?"

Six sets of eyes were riveted on Mal, each showing a thorough and intense lack of comprehension. Wash, Kaylee, Simon, River, Inara, Jayne... missing was Shepherd Book. Only Zoe showed full comprehension--and she had her eyes closed and was rubbing her temples like she had a fearsome headache.

"Well?" he asked again. "What do you think?"

No one even blinked.

"You're crazy."

A murmur of agreement went around the table.

"疯了," Mal repeated angrily. "I think we've established that. Can we just move on to the job? What do you think of the plan?"

Inara stirred, glancing around at the others before she spoke. "I believe the 'you're crazy' covered that." She frowned. "And why, exactly, am I here? Are you expecting I'll be a part of your outlaw gang on this 'job'? Or should I say 'suicidal burst of insanity'?"

Mal glared at her challengingly. "You've been after me to take us to the central planets. And you've been hankering to leave _Serenity_. Here's your chance."

A loud gasp burst from Kaylee. "Leave?" she repeated plaintively, turning toward Inara. "You're figuring on leaving us?"

All the others focused on Inara, too. Inara, herself, looked venomously at Mal. It gave him an odd bit of satisfaction to see the pure fury burning in her eyes. Always nice to crack that annoying Companion control.

"Yes," Mal said evenly, not breaking their hostile staring contest. "She's leaving. Told me so some time ago, but didn't have the gumption to tell the rest of you."

"How dare you, you son of a..." Inara started and he knew if they didn't have the length of the table separating them just then she'd hit him. And she had a good wallop when she wanted to.

"I'm done holding on to your secret," Mal interrupted her. "You want to leave. Fine. It just happens to work into what we need to pull off this job--and that's a legitimate excuse to go to the Core." He looked down at the table, suddenly unable to continue staring her down. Low, he added, "But, uh… if'n you, uh... you know... well, the latch string will be out."

"What?"

"He means you're welcome to come back," Zoe interpreted gently.

"Right," Mal said shortly, returning to a businesslike stance. Kaylee was looking all melty at Inara, with Wash and the others not far behind. If he didn't get them back on the mission now they'd waste the next hour blubbering and getting all sentimental "You can all talk on this with 'Nara later. Now, let's get back to business. I want you all to work over the plan, look for holes and figure what we can do to plug 'em. We're not gonna rush into this. This ain't no small--" he glanced at Inara, "--_petty_ job here. If we're gonna do it, we're gonna do it right. Anyone wants out, best to speak up now."

"Uh..." Simon wore a world of questions on his face.

Mal cut him off before he could begin. "Simon, 'cause we're gonna be dancing a jig with the Alliance on this one I figure we'll leave you and River off someplace safe, but I still want you to go over the plan. See what you can see." He glanced at River not really wanting to know what she was seeing. The girl was rocking back and forth looking like she was light years away. Mal took a breath and studied each of the others measuringly. A good crew, but not soldiers. Had to remember that. "Now, you're gonna be wondering on some of the details that are missing here. There's parts Zoe and me are gonna know that the rest of you ain't. That's just the way it's gonna be. You're gonna have to trust us on that. 懂吗?"

Jayne made a growly noise, leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. The meaning of the pose wasn't lost on Mal. "So, you're saying you don't trust us. That right?"

_Hell, no, Jayne, just you,_ Mal didn't say. "Ain't that at all," he did say. "What you don't know, you can't tell. And we're gonna be bringing in some outsiders on this mission. I got their security to worry on too."

Jayne made the growly noise again, but this time it sounded like agreement.

"Mission," Inara echoed, managing to make each syllable drip with scorn. That was a gift, that was. One that raised his hackles, to be sure, but a gift. "This isn't a 'mission', Mal. It's not war. There's no enemy..."

"Yes, there is," River whispered so quietly that only Mal heard her.

Inara continued without noticing the interruption. "It's a robbery and you're a criminal."

Yup, Inara was pissed. Too damn bad. It was good to finally have it all in the open. "Thank you for clarifying that," he answered flatly. He looked around the table again. "Talk it on over. Zoe can answer any questions. I need to go have a little palaver with the preacher."

Mal turned and strode out, the sounds of crew talking behind him. The overriding tone was not quite one of excited acceptance. Well... they'd come around.

* * *

"Preacher? You there?" Mal knocked at the door in the passenger's dorm. 

"Yes. Come in," the answer came.

Mal slid the door open, stepped in and closed it behind him. Shepherd Book looked up from reading his Bible. Mal'd a thought he'd have memorized the gorram thing by now. No way in the 'verse he'd ever let the Shepherd know it, but Mal could tell at a glance from where the book was open, and the shape of the verses on the page, exactly what passage the preacher was reading. And a curiously uncomfortable choice it was, given the particular circumstances. Pulling his gaze from the Bible up to Book, Mal said, "I was hoping to have a word with you."

"Certainly," Book said, gesturing for Mal to sit. He did so, perching somewhat uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. He knew the preacher'd be having some of the things said the other night on his mind, and they weren't the things Mal was looking to talk on.

"You mighta figured out," Mal said, "we're working on a job. A robbery."

"Yes, I had that impression when I was pointedly excluded from the meeting."

Mal nodded. "Yeah. I ain't asking you to help out with the thieving, but... well, I got some things I'd like to talk out with you. See if you got any notions on solving a few problems I got."

"I'll do what I can," Book answered. Mal didn't miss the hint of wariness in his tone.

"What we're gonna be doing is some pretty tight and risky work deep in Alliance territory. I got concerns about River and Simon. I mean to leave them off some place safe before we head in, but I'm thinking on how best to cover our backtrail--the trail between them and _Serenity_.

Shepherd Book studied Mal for a long moment and, again, Mal saw not a preacher in there looking back, but someone who knew a helluva lot about crime and the law. More than any ordinary preacher ought, but a knowing that had served them well a time or two before. He and Zoe had talked it out. They'd seen the Shepherd think, and they'd seen him fight, and odd questions about his connections to the law, or the Alliance, not withstanding, they trusted him. They did.

The Shepherd leaned back and cocked his head. "You're concerned you'll get caught, aren't you? And that would endanger River and Simon. That, however unwillingly, you might lead the Alliance back to the Tams. Correct?"

"Ain't just them I'm worrying on. It would go real bad for any of us as gets tied to harboring Alliance fugitives," Mal said.

Book studied Mal for a long time again. It was starting to etch on Mal's temper, this appraisal he was getting from the preacher.

"I've known you for nigh onto a year now," Book said, "and I have never before seen you _plan_ for defeat."

Mal laughed shortly. "Believe me when I say it, if there's one thing I understand too gorram well, it's defeat. And I ain't planning on it. I just got myself over the notion that anything's ever gonna go smooth, and I mean to cover as many possibilities as I can."

"If the job's that dangerous, why do it?"

Mal shrugged. "Why not? There's danger in everything. Can't avoid it all. The money's good and would hold us for a long time."

Leaning forward, Book said carefully, "The war's over."

Huh? "I know that."

"You can't refight old battles to... to... I don't know. Even the score. Take revenge. Make the Feds look stupid."

Mal stared at him, utterly baffled. Inara had gone off on the not-being-war thing too. What were they seeing that he was missing? "Preacher, what the gorram hell you talking about? Yeah, making the Feds look stupid is a thing I always enjoy, but we're planning a robbery, not trying to win some lost battle."

"You're planning to rob Blue Sun. Their payroll treasury."

His mouth fell open. "I thought River was the only mind reader on board." Mal looked hard at the preacher. "You tell me now, and you tell me plain, how the hell did you know that?"

Reaching to the floor behind him, Book lifted up an empty whiskey bottle. Mal recognized it. It was the one that had lubricated their night of truthsomeness. Turning the bottle, Book pointed to a scraped off bit of the label.

"Notice what's missing?" he asked.

Mal answered cautiously, "The Blue Sun logo. So? How do you get us robbing their treasury from that?"

Book set the bottle down on the floor. "The prison you were held in after the war. Now the Blue Sun hard currency treasury. Stacks of platinum to steal from an Alliance contractor." He snorted. "War profiteers, no less, and a chance to even an old score at the same time. Tell me I'm wrong."

Shaking his head, Mal looked at the preacher in amazement. "哎呀! I'm glad you're not the law hunting us or we'd all be in jail 'bout now." He shook his head, still astounded that Book had figured out the mission from such small clues. "I still don't know how... We never said, not Zoe nor me, where that prison we were sent to was. There were lots of camps and prisons for captured Independents. Hardly an Independent still walkin' an' talkin' who wasn't locked up somewhere for a spell. Hell, Wash spent the better part of the war in one camp. And Kaylee's daddy had a passing acquaintance with another such place."

"Yes," Book said, "but they weren't still locked up two years after the war ended, were they? I know where most of the enlisted captured at Hera were sent." He paused and looked at Mal solemnly. "That place was no prison camp tossed together out on some prairie. It was a maximum security facility."

"I'm keenly aware of that fact," Mal said. "I was there."

"And you didn't tell the half of what went on at that place," Book went on. "Those two months you and yours held them at a standstill at Serenity Valley did not pass lightly out of Alliance memory. They knew--they _know_--those of you who survived that battle were, and are, some of the most dangerous, and like to be the most vengeful, they ever captured." Book held up his hand to stop Mal from interrupting. "You may think you're trying to stay under Alliance radar, avoiding them, running and hiding from them at the fringes of the 'verse, but you still keep trying to strike back at them, don't you?"

Mal stood. Enough. "Well, this is all really interesting psychoanalysis, but..."

"Let me finish," Book commanded. Mal surprised himself by sitting back down. Damn. How'd the Shepherd manage that?

"What was said about the beatings and the executions," Book went on and Mal just sat still and listened, "both you and Zoe just tossed that off. Yet it wasn't a minor matter. There was serious consideration given to executing the lot of you."

Mal stirred uncomfortably. Wouldn't be any nightmares coming from that cheery little comment, would there? He closed his eyes to try to phrase his thoughts. "We..." he started, then faltered. "We had some info as regards that notion--not all the guards were sadistic sumbitches. One or two didn't think they could stomach such a thing and warned us. Never knew for sure if it was real or just another of the games they liked to play with us." He took a moment to steady himself; focused on breathing evenly and squelching the blackness churning inside. Looking up, straight into the preacher's eyes, he coldly measured the man. "And while we're working on my past here, preacher, we are gonna have a real serious chat one of these days--just you and me--about you, the real Book when you ain't hiding behind the Good Book. 懂吗?"

"Perfectly. But you've trusted me several times before, even though I may not have been entirely forthcoming with, shall we say, certain aspects of history, please continue to trust me now. I won't betray you on this matter," Book said.

The stare between them held for a long time. Mal searched hard but still came up on the side of taking the man at his word. He sighed heavily and looked away. "All right." He looked back up at the preacher. "But we are gonna ride on back to that conversation one of these days." Like what matter was it he _would_ betray them on?

Book laughed with genuine mirth. "Perhaps at the same time as we ride back to Zoe's comment about you being a--what was it she said?--a 'church-going choir boy'?"

Mal shifted. "Yeah," he said shortly. "Fine. A stalemate. Now let's get back to what I came here for. You got figured where we're gonna hit. Yes, the Blue Sun payroll in the old prison. Zoe and I are gonna be taking the biggest risk, 'cause we're the only ones going in. And I ain't saying how we're planning to do it..."

"You don't have to," Book interrupted. "I got a good idea."

Mal closed his eyes, feeling suddenly very weary. "Tell me the law don't have a good idea."

"I wouldn't think so," Book said. "I'm basing my assessment on _you_, not on the Feds."

"How so?"

"The threat of mass executions. I don't see you sitting still for that, just waiting on the good will, or not, of the Alliance. You had a way out of there, didn't you?"

Mal snorted. "I ain't telling you."

Book smiled. "You don't have to. If you had a way out, it means you have a way in. One the Feds don't know about. And one you think is still in place. And still unknown."

"You're scaring me more than a little here, preacher."

"Yeah?" Book studied Mal carefully. "You ought to be scared."

"Don't need you adding any more worrisome things. Got plenty my ownself. The biggest one is that the Feds are already suspicious of us as regards the Tams. They know they shipped out of Persephone on a Firefly. And they know we were on Persephone 'bout then."

"We got past that part of the problem pretty well when Commander Harken pulled us in and searched the ship. Harken would certainly have reported that the Tams weren't on _Serenity_," Book said. He looked thoughtful now, Mal noted, no longer trying to figure out what mission Mal had planned but helping work through the problems.

"One of the things that scares me is Jayne," Mal said, "He's the clearest link between _Serenity_ and River and Simon."

"Not that bounty hunter?"

"Nah. He was shooting in the dark and got lucky. Or so River says and I think she's right. No, it's Jayne I'm worrying on." In response to Book's questioning look, added, "From Ariel. They know the Tams were there. And Jayne was with them when they got caught." He didn't add that their getting caught at all was Jayne's doing.

Book nodded thoughtfully. "And, again, a Firefly was down on Ariel..."

"...and lit its tail out of atmo leaving in a big hurry after springing those three from the law. They connect the Tams to Jayne, and Jayne to _Serenity_ and we are all in a helluva nastier fix than comes from getting caught snatching a few pounds of platinum."

The Shepherd toyed with his moustache as he considered it. Mal kept quiet and waited to see what he'd come up with. He needed Jayne to help out on the job, but was willing to work around that. But he didn't want to leave Jayne with River and Simon, or leave him alone even knowing _where_ they were hiding out. Jayne was best trusted in plain sight and when he had a lot of money depending on his loyalty.

"When you landed on Ariel," Book asked thoughtfully, "you used false registration for the ship?"

Mal nodded. "And there was a lot of traffic. Wasn't much mind paid to one little transport."

"There've been warrants coming over the Cortex for River and Simon--new, updated ones." Book looked up. "None for Jayne."

Yes, of course. "They didn't I.D. him." Well, that was a relief. Mal started address the next item of concern when the preacher went on.

"But..." Of course there was a 'but'. That was a part of the 'nothing ever goes smooth' phenomena Mal'd become so rutting familiar with.

"But what?" Mal asked dully.

"From what I hear of that little adventure, they may have a picture of him--from cameras in the security station. Might be best to just see about altering his appearance a bit. In case any witnesses could recognize him."

"From the sound of it, don't think there were any witnesses left. But okay. Should be easy enough. I'll make that the good doctor's assignment. He'll enjoy it." Mal said with a smile. Book chuckled. "Like I said, I'd like to leave River and Simon off somewhere safe. Think maybe we could drop them off with you at your Abby?"

Book hesitated a long moment. "They might be safe there. But I think there's a better place--a retreat used by my order. Even fewer would see them. And the brothers there would guard them with their lives. It's regarded as a Sanctuary. And, uh, if you don't mind. I'd rather stay with the ship."

Mal nodded his consent. Having the Shepherd along had helped them out on more than one occasion. "And we should clean out every trace of them ever having been on board."

With a sigh, Book came over to stand by Mal, putting his hand on his shoulder in a way that made Mal want to break it. He gallantly resisted that urge. "You really are scared of getting caught."

Mal glared pointedly at the hand on his shoulder until the preacher dropped it. "Just covering the options. I told you I know about defeat--there's levels to it. You can lose some without losing it all. If I lose some... well, okay. That's my price to pay. But I don't mean to lose everything... again."

Standing, with a sudden need to pace to release some of the tension the preacher had managed to build up in him, Mal moved across the small room. He glanced sideways at the bible still laying open. Damnably curious choice of passages for the preacher to have chosen just now. Well, time to address that very point, Mal turned back to the Shepherd.

"So…" he started slowly, "if Zoe and I do get caught…"

"God forbid."

Mal scowled. "…it's gonna be by Alliance, not local law, 'cause of what the job is. And they're gonna want to be questioning us, and it's not going to be all sweet and pleasant like it was with Harken. He was all manner of distracted by discovering Reavers were real and nearly getting his throat cut. If the Feds decide we're hiding information, they'll do their damnedest to get it."

Nodding, with a very serious expression on his face, Book said, "We know you can withstand torture."

Mal snorted dismissively. "Hell, preacher, you know as well as me torture ain't a way to get information. Not reliable information, anyhow. Torture's to break a person." Mal frowned, recalling too vividly other times and other places best not dwelt on. 鬼, knowing how bad bad could get made it _more_ likely, not less, that he'd break. There were no guarantees. He shook off the thought, and said, "Info, now, truths a person don't want to tell… that comes from a needle sliding into a vein."

The unsettled look on the preacher's face was oddly satisfying to Mal. Like pissing off Inara, there was a certain pleasure in rattling the Shepherd's cool reserve.

"There's a drug the Alliance used," Mal went on. "It's real reliable and the fellow hardly knows what hit him or what he spilled, especially if he's distracted by the torture and getting broke and all…"

"哎呀!" Book cut in. "This was done to you? During the war?

Mal smiled, genuinely enjoying the Shepherd's shock. "No, preacher. You're miss-reading the situation. I wasn't the one being done to. I was the one doin'."

Dropping to sit on the bed, Book stared at him open-mouthed. "You've managed to surprise me, son."

" 'bout damn time."

"I'm just… I never… I mean, I know you can be…" He straightened and looked firmly--and disapprovingly--at Mal. "I just never took you for the sort who'd hold down a helpless man and stick a needle in him."

With a dark smile, Mal met the Book's eyes steadily. "I didn't. Zoe held him down. I just stuck the needle in." Adding, almost as a casual afterthought, knowing it would disturb the preacher, "And that was _after_ we broke him."

It appeared the Shepherd was just going to stay frozen in position and not able to move until Mal filled in the details.

"Okay," Mal sighed. "War time. We caught a spy, scouting behind our lines. We were in the field and I had a lot of lives relying on me finding out what that fellow knew. Zoe worked on him for a while." Mal refused to elaborate on exactly what that meant though he could see the question on the Shepherd's face. "Then I stuck my rifle against his head and dry-fired it. That did it. He broke and spilled everything. When he got done we shot him full of this drug and damned if he didn't tell a mite different tale—one that really was the truth.

"I know the Alliance has that drug," Mal continued, " 'cause that's where we got it. And I know it works and they still use it now and again. What I need to know is if there's any way to block it. I've heard rumors…"

"Yes," Book cut him off sharply. Looking at him, Mal saw a darkness there. Book made a pyramid of his fingertips, looking very un-preacher-like. Well, that was what Mal had come here for. Still it reminded him of the many puzzlements of this man. After a minute of contemplation, Book said, "Yes. There is a way. An antidote, so to speak, but administered in advance. It was a very closely held secret--from your side the late conflict--and I'm somewhat surprised you've even heard rumors about it." He cocked an eyebrow at Mal. "More of your untold tales?"

"I'm thinking we're tied on this one," Mal said with an icy smile.

"Fair enough." The Shepherd chuckled lightly. "I'll need to send some waves. Very _discrete_ waves. Tight beam. Scrambled. Immediately wiped from the ship's systems." He looked hard at Mal. "And no one looking over my shoulder when I send them. 懂吗?"

Mal nodded. "Fine." He leaned back against the wall. "So, how's this stuff work?"

"It's injected. Totally inert in the body--won't do anything to you, or harm you, or be detectable at all--unless it's activated by the other reagent."

"The truth drug."

"Yes."

"Supposin' that happens. Then what?"

"You'll be sick as a dog. The Feds should mistake it for a 'bad reaction,' rare but not unknown to them. You should be able to control what information you divulge."

Mal shifted. "Lotta 'shoulds' there."

Book grinned. "Fewer, I suspect, than are involved with a break-in of the Blue Sun treasury. So... two doses, then? For you and Zoe?"

"No," Mal said. "One. If both of us had this rare 'bad reaction' they'd know something was goin' on and wouldn't quit digging 'til they found out what. My hunch is, if it comes to it, they'll go for me first. If I'm successful in throwing them off the scent, then they may not mess with Zoe too much. Especially if they're so all-fired sure-as-certain this truth drug works."

"Yes," Book agreed. "It's a reasonable risk." He gave Mal a studied look. "Better still not to get caught."

Mal straightened up and gave the preacher a half-grin. "That's the plan. Not getting caught. Just depends on everything goin' smooth." Mal flicked a brief, sideways glance at the open Bible. "Well, then... it's off to the lion's den."


	2. Chapter 2: Into the Lion's Den

_**Blue Sun Job:** Into the Lion's Den  
_靑日_Job: Into the Lion's Den_

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Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters.  
哎呀! Ai ya! damn!  
鬼 guay hell  
反义词 mugou bitch _this one's a mite dubious for accuracy of the characters--researched it off several different translation sites that didn't entirely agree)_  
糟糕 tzao gao oh sh!t _

* * *

**Chapter 2** _

Inara exited from the dining area as gracefully, and quickly, as she could. 哎呀 Mal all to 鬼 for telling them she planned to leave _Serenity_. He could have at least warned her that he intended to, let her prepare. Poor dear Kaylee had been so broken-hearted. And she'd felt--Inara had to admit it--betrayed. Only Zoe hadn't seemed surprised. Had Mal told her...? No. Their communication on such matters scarcely achieved the verbal level, yet Zoe must have read the tension between Inara and Mal since leaving the Heart of Gold and Nandi behind.

Inara exited from the dining area as gracefully, and quickly, as she could. 哎呀 Mal all to 鬼 for telling them she planned to leave . He could have at least warned her that he intended to, let her prepare. Poor dear Kaylee had been so broken-hearted. And she'd felt--Inara had to admit it--betrayed. Only Zoe hadn't seemed surprised. Had Mal told her...? No. Their communication on such matters scarcely achieved the verbal level, yet Zoe must have read the tension between Inara and Mal since leaving the Heart of Gold and Nandi behind. 

Soon she'd have to smooth things with Kaylee. The girl was so dear, so unlike Inara in every possible way, yet so accepting of her. Such a treasure Kaylee was. Would Simon ever realize that, Inara wondered. And would Kaylee ever realize that she and Simon, and their lives and backgrounds, were as different as, well... Inara's and Mal's.

Sweeping down the catwalk to her shuttle, Inara reflected on all the times and adventures she'd had on this strange little ship. From blood and gunfights to the smell of cattle that no amount of incense could eliminate. A luxury liner, _Serenity_ was not, but boring, stuffy, pretentious... never. _Serenity_ had been a window into an entirely new 'verse to her, one never dreamt of on Sihnon. What would her House think of the life she'd led, and the things she'd seen and done, since leaving there? Inara's reflective smile faded.

"_What are you running from?"_ Mal had asked her the first day she set foot on this ship. Now, as she sought to flee from _Serenity_, Inara realized the question was still perfectly valid. What was she running from now? Was her freedom so important that she'd cast aside happiness and the bonds of love to have it? Hmmm... ask Mal about freedom, and its price.

"What the hell are you doing in my shuttle!" Inara stopped in the doorway, glaring at Mal who was sprawled on her curved couch.

He smiled at her. It wasn't one of his boyish, endearing smiles, more one of his callous, challenging ones. "I figured you'd want to be yelling at me." He shrugged. "Thought I'd make it easy for you. So, go ahead."

That stopped her. Oh, she was furious with him, to be sure. But his obnoxious bring-it-on smirk and that insolent spark in his eyes told her he knew gorram well he'd succeeded in tweaking her. There was no one--_no one_--who could make her so angry so fast. Well... if that's what he expected, and wanted, she damned well wasn't going to give it to him.

Letting her stance wilt into an air of hurt fragility, Inara crossed the shuttle in a calculatedly sensuous glide to sink down on the couch near him. Covering her face with her hands, she used the moment of feigned emotion to school her features into a vulnerable, but poutingly sexual, look. Wiles. That's what he'd called it. She was using her wiles on him. With unshed tears glistening in her eyes, Inara gazed up at him through lowered lashes.

The smirk had broadened to a grin. He wasn't buying it. Not even a little. With an exaggerated sigh, Inara dropped the pretense and glared at him.

"I just wish you had warned me," she snapped. "Kaylee was very hurt that I hadn't told her."

Leaning forward, Mal said, "See, now, there's the thing... you coulda told her many a time and gentled it all out for her so you two could have had a good sisterly cry together, but you pushed it off and pushed it off 'cause you _wanted_ me to do it." He leaned back and made a sweeping gesture with his hand. "You wanted me to bail you out of a fix and I did. You should be thanking me."

With a very unlady-like snort that would have shocked her house mistress, Inara said, "Well, that _almost_ evens the score."

"Huh?"

"For the times I've rescued you."

"And when, exactly would that be?" Mal paused and appeared to consider. "Okay, when you got Zoe and me out of that mess in Paradiso, but that's the only..."

"And at Canton," Inara interrupted. She'd never mentioned that one before, but--damn him--she wanted to get a few smacks in.

"Canton? What did you do at Canton?"

With an arrogant toss of her head, she said, "The magistrate had put a landlock on your ship. I got it removed."

"You... a landlock..." he sputtered. "Damn." He gave her a long up and down look. "Whored yourself to the magistrate to do it?"

Inara clenched her fist to keep from slapping him, then considered slugging him instead. "I most certainly did not," she hissed, then swallowed hard. "My client was his son," she added, low.

Surprisingly, his expression softened. She'd been ready--eager even--for the fight to escalate into one of their shouting matches. Instead, he was studying her with a very serious expression, looking, as she recalled, what he called "truthsome."

"Well, I'm grateful for that," he said quietly. "They were damned harsh to smugglers there. But I don't want you selling yourself on my account. I just don't want to be beholden in that way."

"I didn't 'sell' myself for you. And you aren't beholden to me."

"Umm…" He didn't seem to be buying that completely. She shouldn't have mentioned Canton and the landlock. Mal couldn't let things like that just go with a 'thank you.' Maybe he wasn't the only one who couldn't let things go.

"So," he said, looking slowly away from her to scan her shuttle. Was he already planning on how to redecorate for the next renter, seeing it with her gone? "Figured where you're gonna be goin'?"

"I haven't decided. Probably home to Sihnon, to my House, at least for a while" she said.

"You can't go home again," he said softly. That took her aback. Odd that he'd say that, considering that for him it was literally true. Seeing her reaction, Mal seemed to click onto where her thoughts had gone. "Yeah," he said, looking away from her. "I mean, it don't matter if nothing there's changed. _You_ have, and that makes home not home anymore.

"I can't but guess," he went on, "and probably be guessing all kinds of wrong, about what your life was like there, or why it was you left. But I know you ain't the same person you were then as now, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not."

Inara looked inward at herself. Three years ago if anyone had told her she'd be roaming the fringes of the galaxy in a tramp cargo ship run by criminals who'd been on the wrong side of Unification, she'd have thought them mad. Moreso, it was mad to suggest she'd actually _like_ such people and regard them as friends; that she'd willingly participate in their illegal activities; that she could watch, without a twitch, as people were shot dead in front of her and not necessarily think it a bad thing; that she'd even consider standing against the Alliance itself--people who had been clients and friends, or so she had regarded them--in favor of these renegade outlaws with whom she'd learned to share loyalty and trust.

Suddenly she laughed aloud. "What's funny?" Mal asked.

Inara waved her hand in a sweeping gesture. "This. You. All of it." She turned to him with a bemused smile. "Everything I was raised to believe of myself and the kind of life I would lead--should lead--has been turned upsidedown and twisted all around." Meeting his eyes, she looked into them probingly. "Surely this isn't the life you expected to be leading when you were young and looking forward into the future."

He laughed lightly and completely without humor. "Can't say I ever did have particular expectations. I was just a kid, just… livin'. Then the Alliance swept over us so sudden and all that home wasn't really home anymore even before I left it." An introspective shadow passed over his eyes, and Inara recognized that for all he'd told, and let Zoe tell, the other night, there were a galaxy's worth of mysteries he yet withheld from her, and possibly even from himself.

"And what are we now?" Inara whispered, more to herself than to Mal. The sharp look he shot at her surprised her.

"You said it yourself, a petty criminal…"

"…and a whore," Inara finished, letting a genuine smile of amusement soften the intended insults.

Mal smiled back. "And both more than half a bubble off plumb, I'm thinking."

Inara pasted a trained smile on her face while thinking she'd have to get Zoe to translate that one for her.

* * *

"Oh!" Zoe jumped a touch as Mal stepped out of Inara's shuttle and nearly ran into her. 

He jumped too. "Zoe! What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk with Inara," she answered looking him over carefully. It was hard to keep an amused look off her face. Ah, heck, why even try? "Have a good fight, sir?"

Mal scratched his nose and glanced back into the shuttle. "Not so much." He sounded puzzled. "Kind of unsatisfying, truth to tell. Still, that's one lion's den down… if the rest go as easy…" He shook his head in a 'never mind' way as Zoe stared a question mark at him. "What you wantin' to talk to Inara about?" Mal asked.

_None of your business._ "Woman talk," she answered tersely. _And, yes, I am a woman just like Inara,_ she thought in response to his quick double-take up and down her. Well, maybe not _just_ like Inara. _But… Just get going, sir._

"Yeah, um… okay." Mal turned abruptly and strode off down the catwalk. Zoe shook her head, watching him. The captain could be fairly daft about some things. And more than fairly stubborn about others. That's why she had to watch his back even if he might disapprove of the way she was doing it. She couldn't ask him about this, about why she was going to Inara, because he'd order her not to, and she didn't like to disobey orders. But she would. If it was important enough, and Mal was wrong enough, she would. She surely would.

Turning, Zoe knocked on the shuttle door. "Inara? Can I come in."

"Zoe? Yes, please do," Inara met her in the entry. "I was about to come and find you, myself."

Interesting. What track was Inara on? Zoe entered and closed both sets of doors behind her. She'd sometimes wondered if Inara and Mal realized how well their voices carried when they were having one of their shouting matches.

"Please sit," Inara gestured to the couch. "Would you like some tea? I just put the water on."

"Yes, thank you." Zoe sat, glancing around at the shuttle, noticing the hourglass with 'short interval' written on it. Must be what timed Inara's appointments. Did the clock run out on her fight with Mal, leaving them both unsatisfied. Zoe's lips twitched in a smile. "Don't think I could do that," Zoe commented.

"What?"

"Set a timer for the man to get it done by." Zoe looked up at her curiously. "I expect him to keep going until he gets it done for me. Do you actually enjoy yourself while you're, you know, in the midst of it, or are you just counting off the minutes?"

Inara chuckled, not seeming offended by Zoe's blunt question. "I honestly don't know any more. Many of my clients are rather inexperienced, so the their technique is lacking, but the experienced ones… well, let's just say that practice and ego don't necessarily result in quality."

"Nope. Takes real loving and hot, sweaty passion for each other to make it work. And no faking the results."

Inara studied Zoe a moment. "Like you and Wash?" Zoe grinned. Inara asked, "How is it that you're so… forthright, I guess would be the word, about sex and Mal's so… _not?_"

Well, well… maybe she'd be learning a thing or two here about how the Companion regarded the captain, Zoe thought, still grinning at Inara. "Just raised different, I guess, even though our folks got on together pretty well."

"Your families knew each other? I just assumed you'd met in the war…"

Seeing the questions on Inara's face, Zoe realized there'd been a lot of gaps left in the storytelling the other night. She guessed it would be easy for the others to mistake some things. "No. We go back a mite further than that, me and Mal. I'm not from Shadow, but I was there a few times," she said. "I grew up on a trade ship. We hauled their cattle off world. Until the Alliance smacked us all down for our free-trading ways." What an understatement that was. "Met up again in the war."

Inara nodded. "And you've been together ever since?"

Zoe shrugged. "Give or take. We parted company a few times. He went off once with some… I guess you'd have to call them pirates. Never would talk much about it. I think they crossed paths with Reavers. That boat came back pretty battered, but Cap'n had enough coin to buy _Serenity_."

"Hmmm…" Inara looked thoughtful. Zoe observed her carefully. Her Companion shields were down and Zoe could read everything on her face. Inara was thirsty to know every fragment of information she could about Mal because she really did care for him, and damned if that wasn't why she was leaving. Every bit of it showed so clear. Zoe was as fond of Inara as she could be, but a more hopelessly miss-matched pair she'd seldom ever seen. Nothing but hurting was in store for the two of them if they tried to have a go at it together. They were a bit alike, Zoe suddenly realized, but they and their worlds clashed in every possible way. At least Inara realized it and was getting out before either one got too hurt. But maybe she cared enough, and was loyal enough, to help save Mal from his own folly one more time.

Zoe leaned forward, with her hands on her knees. "Inara. I know you're figuring on leaving us, and I got a hunch as to why and I agree with your reasons…"

"And what is it you think my reasons are?" Inara cut in.

"You're a loner. Separate from the rest of us since the beginning, here in your own shuttle, flying off to do your own business. But you've been getting drawn in closer and closer, ain't you? Helping out on the Lassiter job, and at the Heart of Gold… folks on this boat are kind of like a family, aren't we? And you don't want to get pulled into that family. It's on account of the rest of us, a bit, isn't it? Kaylee, and River, and all. But mostly it's Mal. You were getting too close and you don't want to. Makes things too complicated. Ain't that right?"

Inara poured the tea into tiny cups so fine and delicate that Zoe couldn't imagine them being in any part of the ship outside this upholstered bordello. This shuttle was an odd bubble of an entirely different 'verse within _Serenity_. How many Alliance officers had been in here, Zoe wondered, watching the hour glass pour out time as they grunted and sweated? And had Mal ever thought on that fact, or just Zoe? A cold core of self-interest held Zoe's revulsion at bay at the thought of Feds getting pleasured in this niche of _Serenity_. As Inara poured, Zoe noticed a faint tremor in her hands. Not as detached and controlled as she tried to appear.

"It's…" Inara started, then stopped, staring down into her cup. She looked kind of teary-eyed, Zoe noticed. "It is complicated. And that's exactly what I didn't want when I first came here."

"Cap'n said you'd been planning to leave for some time. But don't seem like you're rushing into it."

"It's hard to let go." Inara looked at Zoe. "I'm sure you understand that. You've got a life with Wash. You could settle down somewhere with him in peace. Start a family. Not roam the galaxy on the wrong side of the law getting shot at all the time. Not having to constantly choose between your husband and the captain."

Zoe smiled softly, deceptively. "I ain't trying to 'let go' of anything. Hell, I'm holding on tight with both hands. Inara… we haven't spent a lot of time together. And you've only seen me since I've been with Wash. You think Mal has some hard edges? You didn't see me in the war, or after. Wash is the reason I can laugh, and smile, and love… but Mal's the reason I'm alive, and whole, and sane enough to have what I got with Wash."

"Then why did you and Mal never… I mean… you fought together and lived together and… are so tied to each other. Why…?"

The Companion academy may have taught Inara control, but it was nothing on control the Alliance had beat into Zoe. She knew what Inara was asking, and it had many layers--sex, love, a husband/wife relationship--why didn't she have those things with Mal? Zoe could have laughed, had not Inara been so serious, and vulnerable. It was almost funny--almost--that even drunk and spilling deeply personal things he'd never talked on before, how carefully and thoroughly Mal had played the misdirections and omissions. Only Mal and Zoe knew their whole history... And, lord willing, only ever would. Wash, too, bless his beautiful heart, had latched onto the word "never." _Never_ was a strong word. And the Cap'n had only said it was the only time they'd ever "slept together that way." True enough… as far as it went. Well, true enough was good enough.

"Inara," Zoe said carefully, "there's no easy answer I can give to someone who ain't lived what we've lived." She paused, then met Inara's eyes, holding them. "Inara... I understand you want to get away from us, not be drawn in any deeper, and I respect your reasons. But, are you willing to help out one more time?" Zoe asked.

"On this job?" Inara barely whispered. "It's so ridiculously dangerous. Mal is mad to try it."

Zoe half-smiled. "He's not exactly dragging me along kicking and screaming. The captain's not the only one with old scores to settle. I like the notion of taking this place more than a little. But I wouldn't be in on doing it if I didn't think we could pull it off. We can. And will." She hesitated. "But, yes, it's dangerous, and I'd like some more insurance in place."

"Me?"

"Yes. You. And not part of the plans we've already gone over. Are you willing to lie to Mal? Keep things from him? Deceive him?" Zoe already knew the answer to that. The notion was just part of the bait.

"What is it you want me to do?" Inara asked cautiously.

Zoe leaned back and contemplated the draperies on the ceiling. Maybe if Inara left some of this stuff behind, she and Wash could sneak in here for a little fantasy romp. "I can't say exactly. That's the thing with a plan this complex. You can cover every possibility you can think of but it's the one you don't think of that will come up and bite you in the ass. I'm certain Mal's working on covering things he hasn't even told me about. Now I'm doing the same. I mostly need you flying high cover, seeing what you can see, and ready to jump in and act in the way you think best, if mission goes way south on us."

Inara played her Companion-trained ability to read people over Zoe. Zoe just sat still and let her do so. No guile. No deception. Zoe was asking for straight-up, undefined cover, and there was no little danger in it for Inara, which was a primary reason Mal would never ask her to help. Well, a close second after mulish stubbornness, at least.

"What does 'half a bubble off plumb' mean?" Inara asked.

Chuckling, Zoe said, "It means 'crazy'. Mal said that?"

With a nod, Inara said, "It seems to be contagious." She paused a long, thoughtful moment. "All right. I'm in. Talk to me about some of these possibilities you want me to cover."

* * *

"Monty." 

"Malcolm."

The greetings were substantially more subdued than the last time they had met. The beard was back, Mal saw, scruffy but resolute. Flanked by Zoe and Jayne, all well-armed, Mal scanned the bar as they crossed toward Monty. Mixed crowd in various degrees of unsavory but, from the dominate colors, definitely not Alliance-friendly. Not necessarily a good thing--the kind of place the Feds liked to watch. Infiltrate.

Mal tagged two of Monty's crew, flicking quick glances at them to acknowledge he'd spotted them. Jayne took up a position half-way across the room with a good view of the doors. Zoe slid into a chair at Monty's table facing one direction while Mal took one facing the other. Watching each other's backs. Monty sat, unsmiling, with his arms folded across his chest.

"So..." Monty rumbled, looking and sounding wretched. "Did you lift my wife off that rock?"

Keeping his expression bland, Mal said, "She stowed away on my boat. We left her off some place... _secure_."

Monty blinked and sighed, stroking his beard. "Well, I suppose that's for the best. I guess I'm glad you didn't kill her."

"Forget her, Monty. 反义词 played us both, but we're both still alive and kickin', and that's more'n a lot of her marks can say."

"Yeah... yeah." Monty snuffled, took a gulp of his beer, wiping the foam off his whiskers with his coat sleeve. Mal watched him with half his attention while checking out the place. Anyone paying too much attention to them? Or paying pointedly too little attention? The bartender had his eye on them.

Was Monty over it yet? The big guy really had fallen for Saffron/Bridget. Who'd'a thought it?

"So, you got a job going?" Monty asked, too loud for Mal's comfort, signaling the bartender as he did.

"Could we keep this kinda down low?" Mal said. He scowled at the lamp hanging low over the table. Microphones, cameras... Zoe looked uneasy too. "You sure this place is okay to talk?"

"What? Huh?" Monty turned to the bartender as he got to the table. "A round for my mates, here," Monty said jovially, reaching a hand with some money up to the bartender. Mal caught a subtle twisting of Monty's fingers against the bartender's as the money changed hands. He glanced at Zoe. She'd seen it too. Being in an underground drop site didn't exactly comfort him.

As the bartender headed back to the bar, Monty leaned forward. Low, he said, "He'll cover us. Sweeps the place every day." Mal glanced at the crunchy floor. "For bugs," Monty added. "We're safe to talk. So you're setting up a job. A big one." Monty smiled beneath the bushy whiskers. "Alliance money?" he asked sweetly.

Mal nodded, controlling a smile. Monty could appear a bit thick at times, but he was as tough and sharp an old campaigner as ever lived.

"Near enough," Mal answered. "How'd you feel about snatching some Blue Sun payroll?"

"糟糕," he breathed. Monty looked sharply at Zoe. "This on the square?"

Zoe wore the fixed expression Mal recalled so well from the war--dead serious... _deadly_ serious. "We got a solid plan. We will pull it off."

"Where's the job? And how you figure to get in?" Monty asked.

"Remember where Zoe and me were sent? After Hera?" Mal said.

Monty nodded. "You know, boy, I'd march shoulder-to-shoulder into hell with you, but 哎呀, I'm glad I missed out on that."

"Yeah," Mal looked down. "We got a way in. Or so we think. We need someone on the inside. Someone to scout." Mal studied Monty closely. "Someone Alliance."


	3. Chapter 3: Going Smooth

**Blue Sun Job:** _Going Smooth_  
靑日 Job: _Going Smooth_

* * *

Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just a few exclamatory words used for the strongest cussing.  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?  
他妈的 ta ma duh f#ck, used for all varients  
狗屎 go se crap

_Advisory:  
_Some moderately strong English cussing used._

* * *

_

**Chapter 3**

"Someone Alliance."

Monty stared at Mal fixedly. Mal could see the gears clicking. Monty's eyes darted around the bar.

"Maybe this isn't the right place to have this conversation," Mal said.

"No, no. We're fine," Monty said, a titch more nervous sounding than Mal'd heard in quite some time. The big guy was generally nothing if not cool and self-assured. "Just don't use that word out loud in here again." _Alliance_. He paused, reconsidering. "Leastwise, not unless you got some powerful cuss words attached to it."

Monty's love of the Alliance rivaled Mal's and Zoe's... save for that one exception. "Gorram it, Mal," Monty hissed, leaning over the table toward them. " 'Sides the two of you, ain't but two on my own crew know I got.." he mouthed the words, "_an Alliance connection._. It's not a card I'll play lightly. Understand?"

"Yes. I appreciate that. The score's worth it, in my estimation. And he'd be taking a minimal risk, give or take. So... Think your boy'd be willing? And..." he held Monty's eye, "...trustworthy?"

Leaning back, Monty clasped his hands over his broad chest, twiddling his thumbs thoughtfully. "I'm thinking 'yes' He owes me. Hell, he owes _you_. Our prison camps weren't no more of a treat to be stuck in than theirs were. But no way he'd get in to," he cleared his throat, "_that place._. Background checks there got to be fearsome. Anyone get to digging too deep in his shiny" mouthed "—Fed—" out loud "background, they run into me."

Mal nodded. "Don't need him to. There's a warehouse nearby that..." He stopped in mid-sentence, looking up. The light over their table flickered briefly. Mal saw Monty tense. "What is it?"

"Raid," Monty said. Other table lights also flickered. A couple people stood up, hurrying toward the back exit.

All three, Mal, Zoe, and Monty brought their hands up to the tabletop, resting them in plain sight. As the door to the bar opened and six well-armed Alliance police strode in, Mal gave Jayne a small 'do nothing' hand signal. The chatter in the bar ceased. One bold—or foolhardy—soul made a snide comment about the Feds' ancestry and sexual habits in a stage whisper. The head cop scowled and crossed over to the man, demanding to see his I.D. Mal figured that fella for a decoy, giving some others time to get out and away. The man did produce a shiny ident card that seemed to pass muster.

A low, seething undercurrent of hatred in the bar, a fair bit of it his own, crept over Mal like a Chinese dragon snaking down a crowded street, twining amongst the people, waiting to breath fire. He gripped his drink, tight, with his right hand—the one itching to pull his piece and blow the 他妈的 Feds to the hot place. Mal didn't need to look at Zoe to read her expression. He could hear her breathing, carefully measured and controlled.

The Feds were here just for a shakedown, for harassment, trying to bait someone into taking a swing, or a shot at one of them so they'd have an excuse to kill or arrest the lot of them. Did the Feds know this place was an underground site? Once he realized what was going on, Mal spotted a good half dozen who were probably in the underground. How deep in was Monty? Didn't know. Wouldn't ask. Didn't want to know. The connections could be useful, but damned dangerous, too. Now was an especially bad time to get marked by the Feds for such associations. They had suspicions enough tied to them.

Finishing the persecution of their first victim, the head of the Fed squad scanned about the room. Though overtly ignored, Mal noted, everyone keenly tracked each move the cops made. Mal knew the instant their table was selected as the next target. Monty clenched his teeth, but otherwise didn't move a muscle. Zoe's breathing became more deliberate. Mal stared down at his glass, shifting it slightly to better track the Feds in the reflections on the surface.

The head cop came to stand by the table, flanked by two of his goons. The other three were ranged around the bar, fingers on triggers.

"I.D.," he demanded of Mal.

Not looking up, Mal answered lightly, "Darn. Must have left it in my other trousers." He raised his eyes to meet the Fed's with just a hint of challenge. Sometimes he just couldn't help it.

A nasty smile flickered across the Fed's face. "Get up," he ordered.

Carefully, Mal stood, keeping his hands flat on the table. "Trouble, officer?" he asked pleasantly, while he glared death at the Fed. Zoe slowly and subtly brought her feet further back under her, ready to move if the play called for it. Mal felt her eyes on him, set to back any action he chose. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jayne easing into a better position. Violence was inches away. Half the others in the bar would back them just for the hell of it.

Though he ached for a good fight, and to wipe the 他妈的 Fed's smile off his face, Mal held it in. Years of painful training had taught him to take what he had to take, like it or not. He raised his hands when ordered, submitting without a twitch to a pat-down. The cop pulled Mal's pistol from his holster, unloaded it and set it on the table, same with another piece Mal had in a left-hand position, and his small hold-out. Confirming that the intent was just general harassment, the cop ignored several other objects—wallet and such—he clearly felt. The cop stepped back.

"All right," the Fed in charge said distractedly, looking about the bar. Already disinterested in Mal, having failed to incite any resistance, they moved on to their next targets.

Mal sat down slowly, not touching any of his weapons arrayed on the table top. Focusing on reining in anger, he glanced at Zoe, wondering what Wash would make of the look in her eye just now. Probably be an even split between backing away from her slowly and dragging her off to their bunk.

"You know," Monty commented mildly when the Feds finally left, one cuffed victim in tow, "this might not be the right place to talk after all."

"Ya think?" Mal snorted.

* * *

Jayne followed Mal and Zoe down the dark alley back toward the shuttle. His eyes darted to doorways and shadows, checking for ambush and cover extra careful 'cause Mal and Zoe didn't seem to be paying any attention at all to such niceties. Toodamned pissed at the Feds and more than a little spoiling for a fight. Hell, they was both probably just hopin' someone would jump 'em so they could knock some teeth in like they hadn't done with the cops. 

"Don't know how you can just take that 狗屎 off 'em like that," Jayne said, hurrying an extra step to catch up with them. "I'd'a flattened that bastard."

"Right," Mal said, not even glancing back. " 'cause getting locked up or killed would have really helped the situation."

Zoe did look back at him, eyeing him kinda like he was an idiot child tagging along behind them. Pesky annoying, it was. They both did that sometimes. "You take what you have to take, Jayne," Zoe said. "Pick your battles."

Jayne snorted loudly. "Yeah. You two done a damned good job of picking your battles." He came a bit closer. "Tell me, back in the war… You ever in a battle you actually won?"

That got the look from both of them simul… simutan… at the same time. Backing off out of fist range, Jayne decided that maybe this was one of them 'pick your battle' moments. Grumbling to himself, Jayne changed the subject.

"There was some powerful odd stuff goin' on in that place. I was seeing some strange things," he said.

Mal glanced back. "Don't go lookin' too close," he said in his captain/sergeant ordering voice.

"I'm just sayin'…" Jayne started.

Zoe cut him off. "Jayne." Mal and Zoe stopped and turned toward him. "The captain's serious. Don't go lookin'. And don't go talking. Not about anything you saw or anything you think you saw. Understand?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Just don't," Zoe ordered. She started to turn away, stopped. "And if you ever find yourself in a place like that, seein' things like that, if the captain or I aren't with you, get out immediately. That's an order."

"All right," Jayne said. The two turned and continued on toward the shuttle. Jayne stood for a moment as it suddenly occurred to him just what this 狗屎 was all about.

"Son of a bitch!" he said loudly. They stopped again, and turned to stare at him. "You rutting fools," Jayne said, lowering his voice as he neared them. "That was some sort of gorram Independents' underground 狗屎. You're planning another 他妈的 war. Ain't you?"

Okay… the picking battles thing might need some fine tuning. Cap'n looked like he might just put a slug in Jayne right here in this alley. Zoe, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to take him apart barehanded. Well, hell, that might be a mite bit of fun, at least.

"Jayne," the captain said, very low and very damned deadly-sounding, "I'm gonna say this once and then it's never talked on again. Ain't us. We know some of them as gots notions, but we ain't in on it. Understand? War's over. We lost. And we know it gorram well. Ain't fixin' to reenact history."

It was hard not to back away when the captain stared him down that way. He might have thought Mal was a bit too soft at times, but he'd also seen the man do some gorram cold, lethal things—had almost been on the receiving end a time or two.

"Right," Jayne said, wondering at the cold sweat trickling down his spine. "I gotcha."

They turned and started on their way. Jayne stood still, struck by their coats.

"Right," he repeated, recollecting sudden-like that Mal was one of the coolest liars he'd ever met. Jayne didn't much care to play poker with Zoe neither. "Right. Ain't you. You're just run around the 'verse in a ship named after a big-ass battle you lost, robbin' the Feds every chance you get, and..." he raised his voice as they started 'round a corner, "...still wearing your gorram uniforms."

Jayne chortled quietly. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself.

* * *

Half way around the world, the shuttle docked with _Serenity_. Mal saw the preacher standing in sunshine on the open ramp as he, Zoe, and Jayne left the shuttle. 

"You sure you can trust Monty's boy?" Jayne asked.

"Monty trusts him," Mal said shortly, watching the preacher. Shepherd Book turned as he heard them on the catwalk.

"Still, ain't like you to bring in an out-n-out Fed in on... well, anything."

"Monty's nephew was a conscript," Zoe explained as they came down the stairs into the cargo bay. "Couldn't help it."

"Yeah," Jayne said darkly. "But he re-upped. Twice. That makes him a for-real Fed."

"Which is why we need him," Mal said. Looking out the ramp, Mal saw a pretty town off in the distance. It didn't look at all like the crowded, slummy industrial city they'd just left in night on the other side of the world. A clear chiming from a tall spire sounded.

"Have a nice visit to the cathedral, preacher?" Zoe asked of Book. That was the cover story for the visit here. It suited Mal—let them leave _Serenity_ far away from the meet with Monty.

"Yes, thank you, Zoe," Book said, smiling at them. "It was a very satisfactory visit," he added. He gave Mal a slight nod, little more than an emphasized blink. Good. The preacher's deal had gone smooth, it appeared. Plans with Monty were flowin' on slick as spit, too. And they'd managed not to kill Jayne despite grievous temptation.

"We're gonna be closing up here, pretty quick," Mal said. "Got a cargo to pick up on Beylix." Another thing goin' smooth. Monty had to pass a load off to _Serenity_ so he could arrange things for the Blue Sun job on his end. Worked out well. They were getting mighty low on both coin and fuel and the job was looking to be pretty darned pricey in the setup and execution. Crime shouldn't require such a damn big investment—crime was supposed to pay, not cost.

"_Don't know if you'll like the cargo," Monty had said with a mocking grin. "It's all Blue Sun merchandise. Kinda ironic, huh?" _

"_But is it stolen?" Mal had asked, remembering his last unfortunate encounter with Blue Sun property and the Feds. _

"_Nope," Monty said. "legally owned by the client. Well... he may have neglected to pay some taxes and tariffs here and there, and a few other places. Maybe a slight lack of proper paperwork on the load. But the cargo, itself, legal as can be."_

Mal smiled at the recollection. Honest work just enough on the illegal side to feel good about it.

"Everyone aboard?" Mal asked Book.

"The Shepherd shook his head. "Kaylee, Simon and River went into town. They should be back shortly."

Gazing out over the pastoral landscape, with the peaceful, storybook-looking town beyond, Mal couldn't help wondering at the dangerous nasties beneath the surface. Occupational hazard. Then he saw the three walking casually toward the ship, arms full of packages, and relaxed a touch. Not running. No gunfire. Everything was still going pretty damned smooth.

It was a mite unsettling.

"Hey, capn!" Kaylee called when she saw him.

"Hey, Kaylee," Mal answered, looking over their packages. "You kids been shopping?"

Simon gave a mysterious smile. "Yup. We're doing our part on 'the job'."

"Whatcha get?" Mal asked, peering at the packages. He didn't know of anything else they needed, other than what the Shepherd was getting here.

"Uh uh," Simon said, moving the packages out of reach. With a broad grin, he added, "This part of the plan is on a need-to-know basis. And you don't need to know… yet."

"Huh." Mal stared after them, ignoring Shepherd Book's and Zoe's laughter.

* * *

It was the last dinner they'd be spending together for a while. Tomorrow they'd drop off the load Monty had passed to them, make a quick, off-the-radar stop at the preacher's Sanctuary to leave off Simon and River… 

Danged if that girl didn't turn to look at Mal right as he thought her name. How much could she read in a person's head? Then he clicked onto something he'd never thought on before--did what they thought ever hurt her?

"Sometimes," River said to Mal so softly no one else noticed. Zoe was in the midst of telling the story--severely edited--of their adventure with Monty in the bar. Mal didn't half listen. Hell, if what they thought on hurt the girl, then being on a boatload of folks who'd done and lived some gawdawful things probably wasn't doing her any kindness.

"Sometimes," River repeated, staring distractedly at a small whatzit she'd been playing with since she sat down. Mal couldn't make out what it was. "Sometimes the coal in the closet is Christmas. Sometimes the little blue things make the shiny presents come out and play." She looked up at Mal with a smile. Right… might be he was just over-reading their little mind reader. While he was thinking on one thing, she was talking on another. Fine enough. Didn't care for the notion that they were paining the child with their thoughts.

"Sometimes," River whispered at him, those big eyes of her staring right into him. Then she looked abruptly back down at her little doohickey.

"Huh?" Mal said, looking up. Simon had said something to him?

"I was just wondering if you actually _have_ an ident card?" Simon asked. Oh, right, Zoe was telling their adventure tale.

Mal shrugged. "Sure. Several."

Simon chuckled. "No, I mean a real one. You know, a genuine Alliance-issued ident card with your real name and identity and everything?"

With a half-smile, Mal said, "Sure do. Reads up all sorts of colorful things when they stick it in one of their scanners." He flicked a brief glance at the Shepherd whose expression didn't twitch. "Wouldn't hand it over to a Fed unless my life depended on it. Even then I'd be having some serious second thoughts. Gets 'em in a real arresting kinda mood when they see what it says."

Wash looked at Zoe with one of his another-thing-she'd-never-told-him expressions on his face. "You have an Alliance ident card, too, sweetcakes?"

Zoe snorted. "Hell, no."

"But…"

Mal interrupted. "Zoe did some violence to hers a while back."

"Why did you keep yours?" Simon asked.

"Reminder."

* * *

Mal stood from the table, about to carry his coffee cup over to the sink. The rest had gone to bed. He'd stayed, running over the details of the plan in his head. Everything looked good. Smooth. 

Rutting smooth. Zoe thought so, too, at least, and that was a comfort.

Going back _there_. Lots of places he'd never gone back to. Some couldn't. Some wouldn't.

With a shake of his head, Mal tried to chase that train of thought away. Didn't do to dwell on such things.

"Sometimes it does."

Mal looked up. Damn that girl could creep about quiet-like. "River, sweetheart. What are you doin' up? You get on back to bed afore your brother comes looking for you."

River stepped closer. In her fingers she held up her toy. Mal could see it now. Just a little piece of souvenir junk--a tiny gadget that played the Blue Sun/靑日 logo over a string of pictures of their products when you pressed on it. They gave the gorram things away to anyone gullible enough to take one.

"Take this," River said, her voice hollow-sounding.

"Okay," Mal said, questioningly. "What for?"

Staring at him intently, River said, "Greedy to look in the closet. But this will make the greedy all shiny. All the presents shiny."

Mal opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to decipher what the girl might be trying to tell him. She'd been distracted ever since their failed smuggling job on New Horizons, but not as erratic and peculiar as she used to be. But now, this load of gobbledygook…

"Just keep it with you on the mission," River snapped, suddenly perfectly lucid, and a mite pissed, if Mal judged rightly. "Keep it with you. You'll know when you need it." River spun around and ran off down the corridor to the stairs, Mal staring after her.

He looked down at the gadget, pressing it to light up the Blue Sun/靑日 logo.

"Huh," he said, sticking it in his pocket.


	4. Chapter 4: Return to the Core

**Blue Sun Job:** _Return to the Core_  
靑日 Job: _Return to the Core_

* * *

Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just some exclamatory words and phrases  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?  
狗屎 go se crap  
青蛙操的流氓 Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng frog humping son of a bitch

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_Serenity_ changed course as ordered by the Alliance.

Wash checked and rechecked nav and telemetry, making absolutely certain they were precisely on course and in full compliance with all flight regulations. It had been a long time since he'd flown this way. Imagination certainly was lacking in this kind of piloting, and freedom. Still--Wash held his breath, watching first on radar, then out the cockpit windows, as a humungous freighter passed on a too-close-for-comfort path--with this kind of traffic, strict controls were necessary.

Letting out a long breath as the freighter passed from range, Wash glanced up at the captain. Mal stood rigidly, staring out toward the now-visible worlds of this system. The man looked more than a little tense. Hell, of course he was tense, he was awake. Zoe had been like that at first, until the time he got her drunk and treated her to a dinosaur shadow-puppet play. Gawd, how she had jumped him. Wash wondered if the same tactics would work to lighten up Mal...

"What are you grinning about?" Mal asked suspiciously.

Shaking his head rapidly, Wash looked back at the controls, trying not to blush. "Nothing. Nothing. We're in the groove. Should be touching down in an hour, if there are no traffic delays."

"Good," Mal said distractedly, turning to stare back at the nearing worlds. "New transponder ident working okay?"

Wash rechecked his readouts. Not so much as a twitch that suggested anything was out of order. "Still shiny," he said. "Alliance traffic control accepted it peachy keen."

"Good," Mal repeated. "Smooth." It took a particular kind of knack, Wash thought, to make the words 'good' and 'smooth' sound scary and ominous.

"We're landing on that one to the far left," Wash said, more to make the scary, ominous quiet go away than to impart any useful information. The captain knew where they were and where they were heading. He'd been here before, Wash hadn't. "The brownish, hazy-looking one. That's Delta. Looks a bit like home from here. Nice, thick, chunky atmo." Wash sighed a touch, repulsed and homesick all at once.

"It's industrial," Mal said. "Factories, ports... slums. All the untidiness they don't want to have to look at on their rich, fancy moons gets crammed there. A world full of folks just existin' to bow and scrape to Alliance society types. Mostly indentured. Some slaves. And..." he trailed off for a moment, "...some other types too." Mal cleared his throat. "Still, a fittin' enough place to live if you're desperate. Lots of corners the Feds don't dare to poke their noses into."

"You were on Delta?" Wash asked, a touch surprised. "Zoe didn't tell me that." Just how desperate had they been? "I thought you were just on Beta." He gestured to the bluish, cloud-etched moon partially eclipsing the gas giant around which the four primary moons orbited. Wash couldn't quite figure what Mal was thinking when he looked at him. Probably about how he knew more about Wash's wife than Wash did.

Mal gave a slight, humorless laugh. "On Beta involuntarily, yet we had a helluva time getting off that moon even once they wanted us to get gone. Spent some time on Gamma, too. Ranch land. Factory-type ranching." He shook his head with a hint of disgust. "Feeds the other worlds. Only world in this system we ain't been on is Alpha--no way in the 'verse they'd let our type touch dirt there. Not that they allow dirt."

Most folks used 'they' as a vague reference. The captain used 'they' in a way that hinted he had some very specific faces in mind, Wash realized, and that the owners of those faces might be getting a serious case of the uncomfortables just now, like someone walked over their graves.

"Alpha is where Inara is heading," Wash said, a mite creeped out when Mal got that dark, deadly look about him.

"Right." Mal tossed off a quick smile. " 'bout says it."

Wash hesitated, then asked, "You gonna go say good-bye to Inara?"

"Don't see why. She'll be back to drop off the shuttle," Mal said too casually and Wash could fill in the rest of the sentence the captain didn't say out loud, "_Once she gets through whoring with half the Alliance on Alpha._" Wash felt a surprising bit of sympathy for the captain. Much as he'd been jealous of what Mal and Zoe may, or may not, have shared, the captain _knew_ what it was Inara did with umpteen-dozen others. And, at least as far as Wash knew, didn't do with the captain.

"And there's that grin again," Mal commented, eyeing Wash. He turned to peer down the corridor. "Where's Zoe?"

"Still getting ready. Said she'll meet you in the cargo bay," Wash said.

"Right. Keep her locked up tight while we're here," Mal ordered and Wash did a quick double-take to realize he meant _Serenity_. Zoe was heading with Mal straight into the teeth of the lion--and her husband hadn't gotten much of a vote in the matter. No doubt they'd come back with more stories. No doubt they'd come back. No doubt...

With Delta looming large in the cockpit windows, Mal gave a terse, distracted, nod of good-bye to Wash. The warm fuzziness of the fare-thee-well tugged at Wash's heartstrings. As the captain's footsteps retreated down the corridor, Wash called a soft, "Good luck," after Mal.

* * *

"Son of a bitch..." Mal stretched the phrase out as he stared open-mouthed at the spectacle awaiting him in the cargo bay. Mouth hanging open in pure astonishment, Mal circled the apparition. "I'll be a 青蛙操的流氓," he said. "It's like lookin' at what might be haunting some evil, demon law firm." He paused, gaping at the Jayne-doppelganger creature standing in his cargo bay wearing an evil-ass grin on his face. 

"I think he looks just fine," Kaylee said defensively, reaching to adjust the lapel of Jayne's grey suit. "Classy. Like a real lawyer or a businessman."

"That he does," Mal agreed, thinking demon lawyer or stone-cold mercenary killer were both in character for Jayne. Well, might be some vocabulary differences. Jayne best keep his mouth shut most of the time while out on the job. Suit or not, Jayne still looked like he could reach right into a fella's chest and rip his heart out if it came to it. "This Simon's 'need-to-know' bit of business?"

Kaylee grinned. "Yuppers. Worked good, huh?"

Mal shook his head slowly. "Yes, indeedy." Aside from the spiffy gray suit, the goatee was gone. Funny how Jayne looked even more wicked with the devil-beard missing. There were other things too. His hair... something different about the color. And his face seemed somehow softer, less harsh.

"Simon did some things to make his face look a bit different," Kaylee said.

"Bastard swore it was temporary," Jayne growled. "Damn well better be."

"I trust you've altered the ship's logs to reflect Jayne's absence during the critical period," Shepherd Book said to Mal as he approached.

Mal nodded to the Shepherd. "Logs on this boat are kept purely for the amusement of any Feds as may care to peruse them. No permanent ink used," Mal said. "Paint a pretty picture of a bunch of innocent vagabonds."

Book nodded with a small smile. "If I might see you a moment before you leave, captain..." he said, with a significant look in his eye.

"Yeah," Mal said, glancing up toward the catwalk. "Where's Zoe? We're needing to get moving pretty soon."

"I'll be off now," Jayne said. "Got a shuttle to catch." He nodded to them all.

"See you in the world," Mal said. "Be careful and lay low," he added.

With another glance at the catwalk, searching for Zoe, Mal followed the preacher back toward his dorm. The infirmary appeared far less clean and orderly than Simon had kept it. It had physically pained the good doctor to strip out all his improvements and restore the place to the way it had been when he first stepped foot onboard. _Serenity's_ infirmary again gave every indication it had been stocked and set up by a couple battlefield medics, not a highfalutin Osiris trauma surgeon. Simon's and River's rooms were also stripped out, erasing as best they could any trace the two had ever been on board. Turned out Simon not only could mastermind the odd hospital robbery, but he was a fair hand at cleaning up a crime scene; knew ways to go about eradicating DNA traces and the like. The boy had picked up more than how to patch bullet wounds working that night-shift E.R.

The Lassiter rested secure in a smuggling hidey-hole that no Fed searching the vessel had ever found--and was unknown to anyone onboard save Mal and Zoe. It'd be more than a little ironical, in the not-good sense of the word, if they got away with the Blue Sun robbery and ended up getting nailed on account of some routine port search turning up the freakin'-impossible-to-fence Lassiter.

"Mind if I put in a prayer or two on your account while you're out on the 'job'?" Shepherd Book asked as Mal slid the door to the preacher's room shut behind them.

Mal squelched his gut reaction, instead giving the preacher a mocking look. "You got prayers what work for robberies?"

Book hesitated a moment as he dug out a small injector from his bag. "Well... uh, I hadn't really thought about it that way..." Mal concealed a smile, maybe not too well as the preacher jabbed his bared arm with the injector a bit harder than necessary.

"Ow."

"Sorry 'bout that," Book said without a trace of apology. "No prayers for robbing--little issue of that commandment--but there's a few catchy ones for folks going into battle..."

Mal didn't miss the twinkle in Book's eyes. Preacher was baiting him. Fella was so gorram good at figuring things out from bitty little clues, now he was fishing for more. Mal chose not to take the bait.

"I'll pass," he said with a bland smile, letting the preacher read into it what he will. He turned to go, paused. "Say, Shepherd, you'll keep an eye on Kaylee, until Monty's people show up?"

"Certainly."

"Good. Don't let her go wandering about here. This place ain't as tame and peaceable as the Eavesdown Docks. Any of them commandments as you care to name are getting broke right now not a five minute walk from where we're parked."

"I see," Book said thoughtfully. "I'd planned to roam about a bit around here. Spread the Word to them as might need to hear it."

Mal stared at him. "Yeah. Well. You be careful too." With a short nod, he stepped out of the preacher's room.

Footsteps on the catwalk overhead caught Mal's attention as he crossed the cargo bay. Glancing up, he froze, stopping so suddenly he almost tripped.

"My God in heaven," he said, so stunned he wasn't even aware of the particular choice of words he used. "Zoe?"

She was... well, she wore... she looked...

"Zoe?" he repeated, double-triple-checking to see if he was really seeing what he was seeing. "You're wearing a _dress_."

Kaylee's giggle echoed through the cargo bay, meeting the Shepherd's chuckle and echoing. Zoe's cheeks burned with red, and she refused to meet Mal's unblinking stare, as she struggled to descend the stairs in some dainty little shoes that were just downright unsoldierly, but curiously fetching. The dress itself--holy flyin' 狗屎, Zoe was wearing a dress. Weren't all fancy like Inara's, just a plain, dull blue that came down just past her knees. But it fit well enough. It fit really well enough.

"Shake your eyeballs loose, sir," Zoe hissed as she passed him, "before they get stuck."

Mal took it as an order, blinking and shaking his head. He rubbed his eyes. "I think I'm going blind," he said, staring at her again. Yeah, it was still Zoe in that get-up. Her tight posture said clear as could be she was on the verge of reaching out and killing him if'n he didn't shut-up about it. He didn't shut-up about it. "Your husband seen you in this rig?" he demanded. Going off on this particular mission--most especially with their particular cover story--with Zoe looking that way might just get Wash thinking on killing him too.

Zoe glared at him. "What do you think took me so long getting down here," she said, straightening the top and checking the lacings. She had missed one.

"Right. Okay..." What were they doing? Oh, yeah, shuttle to Beta. For some damned thing or another. He couldn't recall just now.

"Uh... Kaylee," Mal said, still staring at Zoe whose glare was starting to burn in. He forced his eyes over to Kaylee, whose grin was as broad as he'd ever seen her wear. "You be mindful of danger. Back away and get out if anything looks to be going wrong. You let Monty's crew handle any situations. 懂吗?"

"Yes, Cap'n. You be careful, too." Kaylee wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a sound hug.

Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, Mal gave a glance toward the preacher, picked up his bag and followed Zoe out the airlock. The ramp raised behind them as they stepped out into the dusty bustle of the port. Mal paused to give _Serenity_ a long look, turning away to see Zoe had done the same thing. They exchanged a look that needed no words between them. Into combat, it was.

As they stepped away in unison, striding through the crowd, both tensed in one regard and relaxed in another, neither fully conscious of the change. Zoe's taut military manner and obedient deference to her captain dropped away, shifting into the easy camaraderie of an equal who, as the play called for it, deferred to the other's trusted judgment and leadership. On Mal's part, the tension of control and concealment vanished, taking years off his face with it. He had no secrets from Zoe, no past to hide--hell, she knew every nook and cranny of his past there was to know. He'd let uncertainties and doubt show in front of Zoe alone that he'd never let any others see. No pretense between either of them, except for the pretense they jointly presented to the rest of the 'verse.

Though unarmed and wearing 'civies'--blue and grey clothes, no browns or reds anywhere in evidence--Mal and Zoe still parted the crowd as they strode through, completely unaware that their ingrained posture and manner tagged them as something other than the middle-class working couple they were dressed to be. An unusually alert port guard noticed them, not sure what it was that caught his attention but knowing something did. He glanced back to the ship they'd come from--a Firefly, classic smuggler's ship. Without any real conviction he'd seen anything amiss, but with a nagging sense of suspicion, the guard entered a low-priority security query on the Firefly's berth number, then dismissed it from mind and moved on.

* * *

"Will you relax," Mal whispered sharply to Zoe as they neared the head of the shuttle queue. The sight of the Alliance sentries and the scanners had caused her to visibly tense. 

"Yes, sir," she said, staring at the sentries.

"And stop calling me 'sir'."

Zoe shook herself and looked up at Mal with a sweet, and totally artificial, smile. "Of course... dear."

Mal rolled his eyes and sighed. "You look all the part of a girly-girl out with her honey, just act it."

"Right." She grinned at Mal. "Shouldn't you be carrying my bag?"

He scowled. "Don't over do it."

Their ident cards slid in and out of the scanners without causing any notice on the part of the sentries. Good. First hurdle past. They walked through the weapon scanners and entered the shuttle.

"I don't like taking public transport," Zoe said quietly as they sat down.

"Safest and best," Mal answered. "Couldn't park on Beta anyhow. It was hard enough for Monty to get clearance."

"Still don't like it. Calls to mind some uncomfortable times," she said.

Times that you, no doubt, never told Wash about, Mal thought. This whole trip was gonna be calling to mind a whole helluva lot of uncomfortables. Mal glanced over at Zoe, meeting her eyes he knew she was thinking on the same thing. He reached over, took her hand and squeezed it fondly. When the sentry had passed by he quickly released her hand and turned to look out the window.

The smog layer slipped away as they plunged into the sky between the moons. Beta glistened ahead, showing past the terminator of the gas giant. The gas giant, itself, was a more than fairly splendid sight with its swirling bands of blue and orange. They hadn't been able to see it from anywhere inside the prison out of the few, high windows. It had been a bit of a shock to step out of the walls for the first time after being on Beta for over two years and see that enormous planet hanging in the sky. Alpha, however, they'd been able to see, with all its shiny prosperity glittering in the sky like a gorram billboard reminding them daily of their defeat.

Mal jumped as Zoe touched his arm. "Stop thinking on it," she said very softly. He nodded and look away from the windows. The thoughts, however, weren't so easily chased away. Maybe this was just big, damned mistake coming here. Could any score be big enough to be worth it? Could some puny shard of revenge ever balance the scales of what they'd lost?

"Hell, yes, it's worth it," Zoe said in a whisper so low Mal realized she was talking to herself.

Okay, then. Put aside the doubt and focus on the mission... the _job_. Yeah... just do the job, stick it to the bastards and get back to the Black. The plan was sound. One thing at a time. Deal with the obstacles. Move on. The past was past. Over and done and beyond changing.

The shuttle hit atmo on Beta, the sky shifting from black to blue, then to a solid grey as they passed through a thick cloud deck. Not half an hour after stepping off _Serenity_, Mal and Zoe stepped off the shuttle and out of the port onto the streets of Beta's largest city. A dozen scanners and cameras tracked and noted their moves, just as they noted the scanners and cameras. Nothing had changed. Sterile, shiny-clean streets and prosperous, well-fed people living in rigid adherence to the rules. The sensation of being watched crept over Mal. With a dark glance at Zoe, they quickly stepped off down the street, not daring to stay in one place too long lest it be thought they were loitering.

Mal wasn't aware how tightly he clenched the handle of his bag until he noticed Zoe doing the same. They were playing this all kinds of wrong. Forcing himself to relax, he put his hand on Zoe's arm. "Ease up," he ordered. As a Fed police patrol approached on the sidewalk, he put his arm around Zoe's neck, pulling her in close so he could whisper in her ear. "We're happy, proud citizens of the Alliance here on a holiday. 懂吗? Not doin' nothing wrong, 'cept for you stepping out on your husband. No more acting paranoid." Zoe nodded. Now to convince himself. It was harder than he'd thought it would be. He really didn't like to think on just how much the Alliance had conditioned them to think and act during their time on this hell-spawned rock.

An uneventful tube ride, and another short walk later, they were managing their roles better, in Mal's estimation. That was, until they arrived at the hotel.

Standing across the street from the entrance, they stared at it warily. A dozen stories tall, the hotel stood a few blocks from the edge of an industrial area backing onto the nicer business and shopping district in which Mal and Zoe stood. A bustle of people moved around the shaded entry. More than a few Alliance uniforms were in evidence.

"Huh," Mal said.

"Well..." Zoe added.

They stared some more, neither moving, unmindful now of the risk of being taken as loiterers.

"They won't remember us," Zoe said without conviction. "It's been years."

"It's got a different name even," Mal said. "Must be different staff, too. And Blue Sun owns it now. Isn't that special?" He glanced at Zoe. She'd faced mortar attacks with less trepidation than showed on her face right now. "Inara picked this place?"

"Yeah. Said it fit our cover to a 'T'. And takes cash, which damned few places here do." Zoe's eyes never shifted from the hotel's entrance.

"Well, then," Mal said, taking a deep breath. "In we go..."


	5. Chapter 5: Life That Was

**Blue Sun Job:** _Life That Was_  
靑日 Job: _Life That Was_

* * *

Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters  
哎呀 Ai ya damn  
混蛋 hwoon dahn (hundan) bastard  
他妈的 ta ma duh fck, or motherf#cking_

* * *

_

**Chapter 5**

"Whew..." Mal let out a long, sighing breath he felt like he'd been holding since stepping off _Serenity_ as he closed the door of their hotel room behind them. "哎呀, but that was creepifying." He'd never dreamed checking into a hotel could be so gorram scary. Trying to look casual and in-character while hunting for familiar faces in a place where they had more than a little history of the could get them thrown in jail kind... And the hotel seemed be having a 他妈的 Fed convention. Almost rather face Reavers. At least the smarmy little bastard at the desk took their looking-over-their-shoulders unease for paranoia at being lovers sneaking away from her husband--apparently a specialty of the hotel now. And how, exactly, had Inara known that when she picked the place? Never mind. Not a thing to ponder on. Hmmph... there'd been a Companion promenading through the lobby like she was the queen of Sihnon, with a fawning ape of a 混蛋 Fed at her side grinning like he'd just won the gorram lottery.

Dropping his bag, Mal immediately dug out a Cortex link. Prying off the back, he pulled out a Kaylee add-on to the gadget. Carefully he began sweeping it over the room, paying particular attention to anyplace a camera, sensor, or any other type of bug could be placed. Zoe checked the room more broadly--vents, windows, pictures and mirrors.

"Oooh! Do you see that tub?" she said. Mal rolled his eyes and continued working. The sound of water running started immediately. He glanced up. The tub was huge--big enough for... well, more than one. It was also out in the open in the room on a raised, tile platform opposite the bed. Zoe apparently decided to focus her security concerns on the potions she was dumping into the water. A scent of lilacs filled the room.

"And the bed..." Zoe said, flinging herself down on it as Mal ran the scanner over the headboard and checked underneath. "You could fit half the crew in this bed."

"Which brings to mind," Mal commented distractedly, "the eerie-ass question of which half?"

"Yeah." Zoe grinned. "Guess that's a place best not gone." She added, with a impish twinkle in her eyes, "though Simon's kinda purty."

Mal glanced at her, scowling. "Ick."

With his scan complete--no bugs, no sensors, place was as good as its disreputable, sleazy, cash-paying reputation promised--Mal straightened up and actually looked at the room itself for the first time. The ceiling over the tub was mirrored. "Dang. Ain't up to Inara's standards, but more than a tetch smutty lookin' anyhow."

Zoe stretched out on the bed and sighed. "Ain't it though. I wish Wash were here."

"Well, I'm glad as hell he ain't. Don't fancy watching the two of you goin' at it the next couple days."

Mal crossed to the window and stood staring out over the city. Twilight darkened the sky and brightened the glow of the gas giant that hung on the horizon to the far left. The view was made to order--right out over the industrial district. Smarmy-boy at the front desk had smiled knowingly when they'd insisted they wanted a room at the back of the hotel. Quiet and private, not one with the nicer view out front.

Behind him, the water stopped. Could have probably filled _Serenity's_ tanks with as much as Zoe'd just run in that tub.

"There it is," Mal said quietly. Zoe stepped up beside him. "Right there," he said, pointing. "There's a new building on the one side, but the warehouse is still on the other." They'd known that in advance, had researched the area, but it was still a comfort to see it as it had been, unchanged.

"Different fence," Zoe commented, "and guard towers."

Mal nodded. "Meant to keep folks out, not in."

They shared a long look that said volumes. Zoe turned away. Mal pulled a small binoculars out of his bag and began studying the area in detail. The old prison appeared much the same. Different paint job--Blue Sun logos plastered all over it. Same structure, though. He traced the surrounding streets in detail, noticing the positioning of sentries and patrols, watching the flow of traffic--escape routes and choke points.

"So, what's with the dress?" Mal asked, still studying the soon-to-be crime scene.

"Didn't you notice the other women?" Zoe asked.

"What other women?"

"_All_ the other women," Zoe said in her 'you idiot' tone.

Mal lowered the binoculars and let his gaze roam over the city. "All I saw were a whole helluva lot of Feds. Every damned place I looked. Feds."

Zoe chuckled. "Well, there were other folks about, too. And all the women were wearing dresses." She paused and added, "They have an ordinance."

The growing twilight outside caused the interior of the room to reflect in the window. Mal could see Zoe standing at the edge of the tub platform, tugging at the lacings of the dress.

"You mean they'd arrest a gal for wearing trousers?"

"Yup. Crappy planet then. Crappy planet now," Zoe said lightly. It was the kindliest term Mal had ever heard Zoe use to describe this gorram world. She'd used some mighty powerful terms in the past, and with good cause. She'd also threatened to nuke it from orbit as soon as she could lay hands on the weaponry. Fortunately, that had been a private conversation or she'd still be locked up. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure she remembered that--she'd been pretty drunk and he'd been careful not to remind her.

Zoe undid the last lacing. Mal closed his eyes and grimaced. "You know I can see you in the window." He looked again. Zoe stared over. Meeting his eyes with a smirk, she let the dress fall to the tiles.

Sighing, Mal looked back over the city, sparkling now as lights twinkled on across it. Some might have thought it a pretty site. He didn't. Ignoring the splashing sounds behind him, Mal watched Alpha rise. The moon was a small disk in the sky, so coated with lights on its night side that it glowed brighter than the day side. Rich, prosperous, life-sucking sons of... Mal had to look away. Which brought him right back to a bubble-coated Zoe.

Not particularly looking, and not particularly not looking, Mal crossed to sit on the edge of the bed. Pulling off his boots, he propped up some of the pillows and leaned back. Zoe stretched a leg up, letting soap bubbles stream down off it. She moaned happily.

"Your husband's gonna kill me, you know," Mal said dryly.

"Oh, you're a much better shot than he is. You could take him," Zoe said.

"That'll be a comfort in the ten seconds I have until _you_ kill me for taking down your husband."

Grinning, Zoe said, "Wouldn't take me ten whole seconds. I'm much faster than that. Don't worry. He's on a strictly need-to-know basis on this mission."

"This damn well better be a thing he don't need to know," Mal said. He watched Zoe thoughtfully. "Helluva lot seems like you don't think he needs to know."

Zoe turned to study him. "And I mean it to stay that way." She turned back, squeezing a large sponge out over her head. "Wash is another life. Another lifetime. He's bright, and fun, and happy and he makes me feel positively joyous and shiny. Don't need a dead and buried history blackening the shininess."

"Yeah?" Mal said quietly. He was part and parcel of that history. Zoe didn't seem to comprehend just what she'd said to him there. Or maybe she did. "I think you're making a mistake. Some of that history is gonna come up and bite you one of these days and Wash may not forgive you for keeping it from him."

"Well, he's my husband, not yours," she said a bit tersely. "He knows there's history I ain't told and he loves me just the same. And just how much have you filled Inara in on? Hmm? Or anyone else for that matter?"

"I'm just sayin'..."

"Well, don't."

Mal sighed. "Coming here was a mistake." He rubbed his eyes. "Never should go back to a place you left in the dust."

Zoe sat up and leaned on the near edge of the tub. "Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. Remains to be seen. Maybe we're both crazy beyond repair, but I got a burning need to win one over these bastards, just like you. Unfinished business. Old scores."

"I hear that," he said. "You know that wasn't my intent. The job. Didn't mean it to be a strike. Just a job. Then everyone keeps talking at me on how the war was over and it came to me that this was an unfinished battle. A 他妈的 chance to win one. Even if they never know we did." He paused and added judiciously, "Actually, I hope they never do know."

" 'Cause that'd mean we got caught." Zoe chuckled. "Ain't gonna happen. I just got a feeling this one's gonna go smooth."

"I surely do hope you're right," Mal said.

Zoe contorted, trying to reach the dripping sponge to her back. "Come scrub my back."

Mal groaned, expressing in an old, colorful, and extremely inappropriate-in-public Chinese phrase from their army days just exactly what she could do with that notion, and with herself. He pulled the pillow down and rolled over, closing his eyes.

* * *

It would have surprised those who had even an inkling of his history, but most of Mal's dreams were pleasant ones. Maybe it was through force of will, or wholesale psychotic denial, but he tended to dream about the good times, with people alive and happy and whole in places tranquil and untouched as they were in the life-that-was, in the _before_. In a way it made it worse. In a big way. Waking up was the nightmare. To be forced to remember what had become of those people and places, to know they were gone far beyond reach or redemption. 

Now he dreamed of Zoe, the first time he'd seen her, and the only other time he'd ever seen her wearing a dress. It had been blue, as well, and simple of cut. She'd been the prettiest, wildest filly he'd ever laid eyes on. Shadow was a blur in the background of the dream, other faces indistinct. Only Zoe's face stood out clearly, as she danced in the firelight. It was Shadow's Founding Day celebration... the Alliance would be there to tromp them down soon, coloring the brown, dusty ground with red. No, that was later. Right now Zoe's sparkly eyes met his and a flash passed between them...

Mal woke abruptly, on full alert. He stayed still, sussing out the situation. Alpha was high in the sky, glaring down at him--must have been asleep about two hours, judging from the moon's position. Someone was in the room. Then he heard Zoe's voice, calm, untroubled. Okay. All was well.

Rolling over, Mal watched Zoe close the door, pulling the service cart further into the room.

"We ain't here on some gorram holiday, you know," he grumbled, rubbing his face and struggling to sit up. "How much is that gonna cost?"

Zoe sat down on the foot of the bed and started opening lids over the food. "Don't make any difference," she said, sounding a mite snappy.

"The hell it don't."

Zoe glanced over at him. "It doesn't. If we make it, we'll have plenty of coin. If not," she shrugged, "this trifle wouldn't pay the lawyering bill no how."

She had a point. Still and all, he'd lived frugally for so long--forever, really--that the notion of squandering money was an alien one. 哎呀, stuff all smelled good. Guessed he was hungry after all.

Sliding down to the end of the bed, he settled down beside Zoe, picked up some chopsticks, and started eating. Mal glanced sideways at her. She wore a plush white robe that covered her completely, her hair down and still wet. Sitting beside her to dinner in a room they were sharing... It all felt very easy and comfortable. Familiar. Like missing pieces falling back in place to rebuild an old picture. That easy familiarity suddenly gave him a serious case of the uncomfortables, far more than her tub act had done. Wash had no worries on that account--any heat between Mal and Zoe had burned out lifetimes ago. He'd seen Zoe every which way there was to see her; clothed or unclothed, sick, wounded, well and spitting feist and fire, covered in blood and gore, slitting throats with stone cold death on her face... But this casual domesticity... _In sickness and in health..._ Now why the hell had those words suddenly popped into mind?

Mal set down his chopsticks abruptly, turning to face Zoe, lips poised to make words he really didn't mean to speak. She faced him. Her eyes went into him, like they'd always done. He closed his mouth. Words weren't needful. Never really were. Hard to tell if it was his thoughts or hers he was thinking, his memories or hers, or even if there was any difference...

* * *

_Life That Was... five years earlier..._

There'd never been any discussion on the matter. Not then. Not later. Not ever. They walked out of the Alliance prison on Beta side-by-side. It was the moment they could have shaken hands and went their separate ways. Instead they turned a corner in unison and continued on together then and ever. Even the times they were apart or off in different directions for a spell, there was no questioning that it was temporary and the other would step back into place at any time. He hadn't led and she hadn't followed. They'd gone on their path together.


	6. Chapter 6: More Life That Was

**Blue Sun Job:** _**More** Life That Was_  
靑日 Job: _**More** Life That Was_

* * *

Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters  
狗屎 go se crap  
他妈的 ta ma duh fck, or motherfcking  
闭嘴 bee-jway shut up_

* * *

_

**Chapter 6**

_**More Life That Was... five years earlier...** _

_There'd never been any discussion on the matter. Not then. Not later. Not ever. They walked out of the Alliance prison on Beta side-by-side. It was the moment they could have shaken hands and went their separate ways. Instead they turned a corner in unison and continued on together then and ever. Even the times they were apart or off in different directions for a spell, there was no questioning that it was temporary and the other would step back into place at any time. He hadn't led and she hadn't followed. They'd gone on their path together._

They walked with no particular destination. Despite over two years on this world they knew almost nothing about it or the city they were in; didn't know which way they ought to head. One direction was as good as another as long as it was away from that gorram place. Just being out in the open and free created an odd and novel sensation, both good and bad, with unexpected wariness and unease even as they reveled in the sunlight and open air. Once well clear of the prison and the guards, Mal pulled the prison commandant's wallet out and looked through it. Zoe stared at him in surprise.

"I can't believe you did that," she said.

"Seemed like a good notion at the time," he answered mildly. He pulled out the money, handed half to her and pocketed the rest. Studying the commandant's ident card, he took out the shiny new Alliance ident card he'd just been given--rather, thrust into his hand with a 'damn you, take it'--and held them side by side. He tilted them toward Zoe, showing her the comparison. "We've been branded," he said with a hint of amusement.

"Didn't expect no different, did you?" she countered.

He dropped the commandant's ident and wallet down a sewer grate. "Nope. War over or not, we're enemy soldiers behind the lines. Don't expect no quarter from the sumbitches."

Zoe shuffled through the sheets of papers and regulations they'd been given. "I want to read this all through--find out what it is we're dealing with."

Mal had favored dropping that 狗屎 down the sewer grate, too, but Zoe was right. They had to deal with the way it was, like it or not. Best to have as much intel as they could on the situation.

They came to a corner that opened onto a boulevard different from the industrial-looking area in which the prison sat. Shops and hotels lined the broad street. Sounds of children's laughter rose lightly on the breeze from a park across the way. Mal and Zoe exchanged a bleak look. Now that was surely the strangest sound in the 'verse. When last had he heard such a thing? Leastwise when it didn't end punctuated by gunfire or screaming? Swallowing hard, Mal glanced at Zoe again. She was off cogitating in some deep, black place.

"Hey," Mal said, shaking her shoulder. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Don't know. Just somewhere. Somewhere else." A Fed police patrol was eyeing them.

"Let's find some place where we can get a room--with room service--real food," Zoe said, stepping off down the sidewalk toward a tall hotel about half a block away. "And I want a long, hot bath," she added.

"Sure. But later." Mal nudged her toward the door of a saloon by them. They went in, paranoid as could be, noticing how many eyes turned to stare at them in their browncoat uniforms. Hearing the whispered comments. No one made any moves toward them, though. Too civilized, Mal reckoned. Not like to be any good, old-fashioned barroom brawls in this controlled, contained Alliance world.

Choosing a table in a far corner, Mal and Zoe positioned themselves to face the room.

"I think I'd be happier if we'd a snuck in the back door," Mal commented.

"And tossed a few grenades in first," Zoe added in a low whisper.

Mal chuckled menacingly. He reached for the sheath of papers they'd been given at the prison. "Well, let's see what being proud, happy citizens of the Alliance means," he said.

"Are we?"

"What?"

"Citizens of the Alliance?" Zoe asked, hunting through the papers for an answer.

Mal shook his head. "Not rightly sure. Ain't something I particular aspire to no how." He paused, glancing around at the other bar patrons. "And is it 'citizen', 'subject', or 'slave'?"

"Best we not get to talking politics in here," Zoe said, low. She looked around. "Or anywhere on this gorram rock."

Over their first round of drinks they studied the paperwork that defined their lives as losers to Alliance might. Regulations, requirements, restrictions... The list of work they could take was short. The list of jobs forbidden them was long. There were strict curfews and countless places they weren't permitted to go. Mal glanced around the bar--this might be in one of the forbidden areas, hard to tell. The lingo was pretty damned lawyerly and convoluted at times. Like as not they meant it to be unclear, give the bastards latitude in stomping on them if they chose.

Zoe pushed the papers away and rubbed her temples. "I'm gonna get another round," she said, standing. She crossed to the bar while Mal reread the part about having to show the gorram ident cards on demand.

"You got a lot of nerve," a slurred, angry voice nearby said, "showing up in one of our places wearing those clothes. And on U-day, no less."

Mal smiled in a way that didn't touch the death shining in his eyes. He could kill this fellow at least six different ways, bare-handed, before the man could twitch. It was a grievous temptation. But then the others, now rising to their feet, would kill him or, failing that, the Feds would hang him. Shiny choice. So Mal smiled.

"Got no quarrels with you, friend. War's over and we're just looking for a peaceable drink," Mal said in the sergeant's voice he used to quiet down rowdy young troopers.

"They should have killed every damned one of you," the drunk said loudly. Zoe looked over. Mal signaled her a stay-back & hold command. "I lost a lot of good mates at Serenity Valley," the drunk's voice rose, "and I know that's where you 他妈的 bastards out of that prison were. You're the ones who did it."

Mal dropped pretense of pleasantry. Low, he said, "Lost a lot of our friends there, too. And you're the ones who done it. Tried my damnedest to kill every last one of you. Just sorry I failed."

Some instinct told Mal not to swing back at the drunk, just to dodge. The drunk slammed head first into the wall, having completely missed his target. Without ever throwing a punch, or making any but purely defensive moves, Mal managed to land three of them on the floor before the police showed up. And yet it was Mal who ended up on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back. Alliance justice and benefit of the doubt wasn't gonna go to an ex-Independent. Hell, fuck the "ex-", an _Independent_. It was an epiphany moment for Mal all the way around. One hour out in Alliance society, already under arrest and about to get hauled off to jail for something he didn't start.

Zoe stayed clear as he'd ordered. Good thing as he could read her expression and it was the one that left bodies in its wake. The bartender stepped to her defense when police attention turned toward her, saying she'd been no where near the brawl. Mal didn't like the up and down look the bartender gave her. Very clearly, neither did Zoe. Mal sincerely hoped she'd avoid killing him, at least publicly.

The trial--such as it was--took place about thirty seconds after they booked him. An annoyed judge barely glanced at Mal before sentencing him to a night in jail, his bit of cash taken as a fine. There was a long line of others behind him. Fights were breaking out all over the city between the newly released Independents and the locals. Funny, though, how none of the locals seem to have been arrested.

Zoe was waiting for him in the lobby of the jail the next day, late in the afternoon, when they released him. He looked her over.

"Been here long?" he asked.

She nodded. "All night. Seemed like the only place I wasn't like to get arrested myself."

Spending the remainder of the day in full and careful compliance with all the rules and regulations to which they were subject, Mal and Zoe tried to figure out how to live in this brave, new--warped, scary-ass--world in which they were trapped. Their major objective was simply to leave. But it wasn't simple. They had no money for transport, and, worse, no clearance to travel. They were as unwelcome on Beta as a plague yet forbidden to leave.

The last of the money Zoe had went to buying dinner from a street vendor. Wandering into the park, they sought out the farthest, darkest corner, behind some bushes and near some trees that gave them a view of the sky while blotting out most of the city that surrounded them. They ate in silence, both thinking the same smolderingly angry thoughts, made worse by the utter helplessness of their situation. Who knew that defeat wasn't a moment. It was a continual, on-going thing.

"Gorramit," Mal sighed, laying back on the ground. It was good, at least, looking into the Black, even though he couldn't reach it. Somewhere out there was freedom and somehow he'd get to it, and then he'd never come back to this forsaken rock. He'd leave the Alliance and all its worlds and all its ways far, far behind him.

He and Zoe glanced at each other. This would have been impossible to endure without her at his side. Mal hoped he was lending her some of his strength, too. Her eyes played over his, a half-smile creeping over her mouth.

"Whatcha thinking?" he asked.

"This... being out on the ground beneath the stars. No war going on around us. Puts me in mind of the first time we met," Zoe said softly.

"Ummm..." He hadn't thought on that in some time. "Seems like whole different people. Different life entirely." He looked up at the scattering of stars, dimmed by the glow of the huge city. "Stars look different than they did from..." he stopped. He hadn't said the name out loud _since_... "Shadow."

Zoe rolled to her side. Understanding flooded her eyes, as well as the wisdom not to say any more about it.

"I suppose we're some different too," Zoe said.

Mal chuckled humorlessly. "Oh, that is a fact. Strange, hard, and bitter." He turned to look at her. "Suppose those two dumb, innocent kids are still in us somewhere?"

Zoe laughed. Real humor. "We were certainly dumb." She twitched a mischievous smile at him. "Don't know how innocent."

"And did we ever pay a price for it," he said with a sigh. Zoe's face clouded. "Hey," Mal said, shaking her arm to break her away from the sad reverie. They had more than enough grief in their lives without courting more. Best not to dwell on sorrows over long past.

"I recollect you dancing by the fire in this purty little blue dress," he cocked an eyebrow at her quizzically. "Only time i ever seen you in one, private."

"Only time you ever will, sarge." She chuckled, gazing up toward the stars with a thoughtful smile. "You got me out of it right quick enough."

Their eyes met again. Maybe it was the starlight, or the rare moment of peace and freedom, a break for the first time in more years than either could recall from constant life-and-death tension, or the knowledge that rank and military order no longer stood between them... Or maybe it was the memories of the life that was before everything eternally changed. Slowly, hesitantly, they moved closer, leaning together. Her hand caressed his shoulder. He traced a finger over the softness of her cheek. Her lips parted expectantly...

"On your feet you two," a sharp voice ordered.

Mal groaned. You can't ever go back. Zoe's eyes snapped into dangerous fury.

Carefully disengaging from each other, they stood, keeping their hands clearly in evidence. Two long gorram years of forced training in compliance. They could hate it all they cared. Still had to take what you had to take.

They presented their ident cards as commanded. The head cop slid them into a reader and snorted with disgust. In a whisper to his partner, meant for Mal and Zoe to hear, he said, "A sergeant and a private kissing. That's just sick."

"Barbarians," the other agreed, low but loud enough. "No decency in their army. Uncivilized."

"Turn around, you two," The head cop put away the scanner, keeping their cards. "You're under arrest."

"What the hell for?" Mal demanded.

"Vagrancy."

"How'd you even know we were here?"

The cop made a sweeping gesture. "Sensors. And you should be glad we got you when we did. Looked like you were on the verge of committing a felony."

This was a perplexing, and evil, place indeed. They had legal whoring yet a willing couple carrying on in a park was a felony. As the cuffs snapped closed around his wrists for the second time in as many days, Mal glanced over at Zoe and commented, "It's going well so far, don't you think?"

"闭嘴," the cop ordered.

Mal shut up. Not because of the cop, but because of Zoe. Maybe he ought not think it, but he hoped they had her cuffed tight 'cause if she got loose there'd be corpses left strewn about.

"Sarge... Zoe..." Various familiar voices greeted them as they were escorted into the police station booking area. Led to empty places on long benches, they were seated, the chains on the cuffs fastened to the bench behind them. The room was nearly full of brown-clothed folk, more being shuffled through from the booking area to the 'trials' on a steady basis.

Mal flexed his fingers and tried to shift positions. He had barely an inch of slack and could hardly move. Zoe sat rigidly beside him. She'd gone to a dark, murderous place and didn't seem like to come out of it any time soon.

"Well, it's official," he said after a spell. Zoe looked at him questioningly. "Since we've been 'free', I've spent more time chained to a bench in a Fed police station than walking the streets of their fancy city." He sighed long and slow. "I really hate the Feds."

Zoe snorted. "You're just figuring that out now? What'd you expect? You know good as me--better--how they treat those they conquered. You know how they treated us in their prison."

"It's all been the Alliance military we've been dealing with so far." He sighed again. "Didn't expect the civil authority to be so..."

"Different uniforms and insignia. Same damn bastards underneath," Zoe snapped, glaring at the cop approaching them.

Vagrancy was two days in jail, but Mal was awarded a bonus day for his previous drunk & disorderly conviction. The fine they couldn't pay was noted as a debt. Running a tab with the Alliance. Mal thought it weirdly ironical.

"Got us jobs," Zoe said when she met him in the jail's entry days later.

"Yeah? Where? How?"

"Don't ask how," she said more than a touch surly sounding. "The 'where' is at that hotel I wanted to stop at. Crap jobs. Washing dishes and mopping floors, but it's legal and it pays. Well, sorta."

"Enough to pay the fines if we keep getting arrested every couple days?" Her humor quotient was definitely at a low ebb, Mal thought as she glared at him.

"Enough to keep eatin'. Can't expect no more here. Got a place to stay, too. Just a small room. Told 'em we were married." Zoe glanced sharply at him. "Don't go thinking it means anything."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Mal answered as agreeably as he possibly could. He wouldn't go touching her with a ten foot pole and wearing a flak jacket, as scary dangerous as she looked right now. They had to get off this rock as soon as possible, before Zoe restarted the gorram war.

* * *

**Now...**

_For better or for worse..._

There'd been some of both. Here there'd been more of the worse and far, far less of the better. It had been a long, hard journey from Serenity to _Serenity_. Mal looked away from Zoe, no words having passed between them, but the ingrained understanding they'd worked out over lifetimes saying all they needed to say. The way it was was the way it was. All the choices had been made long since.

"Ready to go?" Mal asked when they'd finished eating. He checked the clock.

"Yeah," Zoe answered, settling her skirt into place. Underneath she had on dark trousers and her boots, counting on the nighttime to conceal her illegal attire, with a black cloak over it all covering the gear she carried.

Mal, also in dark clothing, checked his pockets. Not carrying much. Gloves. The little doodad River'd given him. Some tools. Didn't like being unarmed but there wasn't much to be done about that. Couldn't fight their way out of a fix here anyhow.

Zoe took Mal's arm like a proper lady as they stepped out onto the boulevard. The street was brilliantly lit and filled with people promenading about. Shiny gorram place. Proud, happy citizens of the Alliance... Zoe's grip tightened on his arm.

Casually walking past a very familiar saloon, they glanced in. Jayne sat right where he ought to be, right on the tick. Good. A lady sitting by him laughed artificially at something Jayne said and put her hand on his thigh. Mal and Zoe exchanged a quick grin. Didn't seem like Jayne had paid for this one--fancy suit must be working for him.

"Smooth," Mal said unconvincingly, as the turned a corner onto the darker streets beyond the boulevard. The police patrols had paid them no mind. Maybe the Feds weren't seeing the browncoat bullseye painted on their backs, but Mal couldn't shake the unsettling feeling it was there. Zoe felt tense, too, her fingers digging into his arm. They were walking straight back toward a chapter of hell, the well-lit Blue Sun treasury just a few blocks ahead.

As the entry came into view, Mal's eyes were drawn to the sentries posted there. Alliance MPs. Not private security guards. Feds. One of the sumbitches looked up at them, weapon shifting in his grip. Same gorram uniforms as the prison guards wore...

Zoe suddenly snagged Mal by the wrists, shoving him backwards into a shadowy alley. She flattened him against a wall, pinning his arms, her body tight against his in an extremely intimate way, her lips against his ear.

"Stop it," she hissed. "Stop it right now."

Blowing a coil of her hair out of his mouth, Mal answered, "I ain't doin' nothing. You're the one molesting me."

Icy cold. "Stop looking at them like you want to murder each and every one of them. They can see it."

That did stop him. Peering through her curls, Mal saw the guards step into the alley entrance, staring in at them. Zoe slithered up and down against him in a very disconcerting way Mal barely noticed. Just another thing to add to the Wash-don't-need-to-know-it list. She was right. He closed his eyes and breathed carefully, forcing himself to wind down several notches on the tension scale. As he did, Zoe eased up on her grip.

"It's okay. They're gone," he said a minute or so later. She let go and took a step back, staring hard at his face. Mal pasted on a Fed-compliant smile. "Better?"

She nodded.

Passing the old prison without paying it any noticeable heed, they arrived at a side entrance to the neighboring warehouse. A distantly familiar face above an Alliance captain's uniform. Monty's nephew.

In the warehouse Monty waited in the shadows. He stepped forward, a hulking giant. No joviality on his face.

"Won't be tonight," he said as they neared. "Had a transport glitch. Took some extra time getting my crew in place."

Mal nodded. The plan had a few day's latitude built in. Tonight wasn't committed, but he'd have been glad to get it done with anyhow. "Tomorrow's better." He gestured toward the blue glow from the sky outside. "Full dark on the gas giant."

"Let's do some scouting," Zoe said.

At the far end of the warehouse, behind crates that had been there who knows how long, Mal and Zoe examined the wall critically.

"Looks good," Zoe commented.

"Looks like a wall," Monty said, puzzled.

"Just as it ought," Mal said, squatting down, searching for the latches. It took several minutes to find the years-unused locks and hinges that opened a hatchway in the false wall. Taking a small light from Zoe, Mal squeezed through the opening, standing up in the narrow space between their false wall and the real one.

"Looks untouched," he said. Zoe dropped her skirt and cloak, and followed him in.

They took their time working at the entry to the tunnel. It wasn't a fully dug, dirt tunnel, but followed piping and conduits that ran beneath the buildings. Slowly, methodically, Mal and Zoe worked their way along the tight corridor up to the point where the connection to the old prison itself was.

"Want to try it?" Zoe asked.

Mal nodded. "Might as well. If it don't work, it don't work. Might as well find out now. Just tread lightly."

"I'll just run a surface check," Zoe said distractedly as she attached clips and wires to a junction box. Staring at the modified not-quite-a-Cortex screen, they studied the feedback. "Just a tickle of power," Zoe whispered, "not enough to trip any alarms..." Her voice had taken on a sing-song quality. "Looks good," she said a moment later. "Shiny. It appears our back door is still there." She met Mal's eyes with a broad grin.

Mal took a deep breath and looked at the passageway ahead that led back into the prison. He swallowed. "Tomorrow then. We go back in."


	7. Chapter 7: And Robberies That Were

**Blue Sun Job**: _...and Robberies That Were_  
靑日 Job: _...and Robberies That Were_

**

* * *

**

Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just a few exclamatory words used for the strongest cussing.  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck, used for all varients  
狗屎 go se crap  
混蛋 hwoon dahn (hundan) bastard

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7**

Jayne had moved on to his second assigned position, near the railing of an outdoor cafe. Good boy. A different woman laughed and fawned opposite him. Mal always knew this was a freakin' bizarre planet. Jayne spotted them. Mal gave the pre-arranged signal that the job was on for tomorrow night. With a bare blink of acknowledgment, Jayne started to turn coolly back toward the woman, then his eyes snapped over to Zoe and his mouth fell open.

Something between an outright leer and falling down on the ground laughing with hilarity flooded over Jayne's face. Hard pressed not to laugh out loud, himself, Zoe's fingers biting into his arm warned Mal just how dangerous that would be. Mouthing a "no" to Jayne, Mal urged his dress-wearing first officer off down the boulevard.

Zoe stared downward, shaking her head and muttering as they continued on toward the hotel. Disconnected words like "kill" and "never forget" mingled with what sounded like the names of various torture devices. Mal chose the cowardly part of valor and said nothing.

"Whoa!" Mal jerked Zoe back, shoving her into the alley next to the hotel.

"Gonna throw me against the wall now? To get even?" Zoe asked, annoyed and amused.

It was Mal's turn for the 'you idiot' tone of voice, coupled with a nice 'you idiot' look of disgust. "No. Just a familiar face out front of the hotel"

Zoe leaned cautiously out around the corner. "More like a familiar fat ass," she said frostily.

Mal let out a long breath. "And he _will_ remember us. You at least. Well, you from the neck down. Don't think he ever actually looked higher than that. Or at me at all."

"Don't underrate yourself, sir" Zoe said, still peering around the corner. "I think he leaned both ways." She grinned at Mal's expression. "Got any ideas?"

"Well..." He snuck a peak around the corner, then scanned the street and alley to see if they'd been noticed. "You up for some sneaking about? What say we try this?" He held up an electronic key.

Zoe's grin broadened. "You still have a pass key to the hotel? I can't believe you kept that all this time." She laughed. "Will it still work?"

Mal shrugged. "Hard to say. I perused their security system a tetch, such as I could without being too obvious, anyhow. Same gorram system. Only less. Didn't look maintained too good. Half the sensors and cameras are out."

"Might be part of that catering to folks stepping out on their spouses. Wouldn't do to keep too good of surveillance." She grinned again. He could see she'd been primed for action tonight and was a mite frustrated that it had been thwarted. "Let's have a go. This could be fun."

Creeping through the alley, they chose a particular route to avoid sensors and cameras, one they'd studied out five years back and used only once. It was a weird combination of fun and creepifying time travel, like two ends of life; that what was and that what is, were reaching out to touch each other.

"Code's changed," Mal said as he slid the key into the slot on a side service door. "But the basic format is still the same..." he added slowly, studying the readout on the lock. "Got the tools?"

"Yeah.." Zoe pulled a small tool kit out from beneath her cloak, holding it open for him even as she scanned about behind them, keeping watch.

Fully absorbed in his task, Mal put all security concerns off on Zoe. She had his back. Working quickly, yet carefully, Mal bypassed the code, working his way into the system. Too smooth... got in quickly and loaded the new pass code onto the key. Slick as spit.

Grinning, he glanced up at Zoe. "They haven't learned a thing," he said.

"And we have," she said with a hint of menace.

With a meaningful nod, Mal replaced the lock cover and slid the pass key back into the slot. The door obediently clicked open.

"Want to snatch anything while we're about it?" Zoe asked, backing in to make sure they weren't seen.

"Tempting, but best not. Don't want to raise any alarms until the job is done." He looked thoughtfully down the service corridor under the hotel. "Be nice to rob that fat bastard blind, though."

"Again," Zoe added.

**_Five Years Earlier..._**

Menial work didn't bother either of them. They'd done more than plenty, in the army and long before. Zoe clung to the dishwashing job--let her stay in a corner brooding rather having to deal with the leers of Alliance officers who patronized the hotel. That suited Mal well enough--didn't want her ripping the arms off any Fed as dared lay hands on her. And it gave him a better chance to scout around, get they lay of the land, so to speak. He didn't have anything particular in mind, just wanted to be prepared for any new troubles that might come their way. Hell, troubles would be coming. Only question was when and how.

The boss, a fat, slothenly bastard with a perpetual leer on his face, explained their status in no uncertain terms. "You're only here because the little lady there sweet-talked me."

Mal blinked, hiding his reaction behind a bland poker face. 'Little lady'? Zoe? 'Sweet-talked'? _Zoe?_ In what bizarre alternate-'verse was that? Death with both hands Zoe? And the fat bastard still lived? With all his parts intact? Damn. This was indeed a curious and serious state of affairs.

"One slip and you're gone," the boss said, clearly relishing his power over the former Independent soldiers. Sure as certain this feller'd never seen combat. How many of those who favored Unification had even the remotest grasp of what it meant to those folks it was inflicted upon? Or had been willing to put their own cushy lives on the line to fight for what _they_ thought was right?

"We won't give you any trouble, sir," Mal said sincerely. "Just want to do an honest day's work and live as upstanding citizens of the Alliance." Fatso bought it wholesale, Mal noted with satisfaction. The knack of lying convincingly was another thing he'd have to thank the Alliance for. Never had need of it before, nor the upbringing or inclination to do so.

The room Zoe acquired was in a run-down tenement in the area the service people lived, out of sight of the finer districts. Well, well... so not everyone on the Core planets was rich and soft. Indentured servants and slaves aplenty took care of the dirty work with little reward and no thanks. Funny, how the gentry managed not to see the dazzling inequalities. Now, Mal had nothing particular against rich folks, but the thing that stuck in his craw was the absolute way the Alliance controlled and contained the under-classes, making damned sure they could never rise up to any better place or life. He and Zoe were under the unders.

A shared bed in a tiny, not too clean room--better than many a berth and resting place they'd known--each managing to be utterly alone even when they were together, with barely a word spoken by either. Three days passed with strict compliance on their part with the many rules and restrictions placed upon them. They understood discipline from army and prison and could simply let themselves go blank and just take what they had to take. Zoe was off in a broody place and Mal had his own shadows to explore as they learned their new existence. They'd been trained in patience as well as compliance and now bided their time, watching and scouting, waiting for an opportunity or option to present itself that would let them flee this wretched world. Things appeared bleak, indeed. They were a part of the lowest of the lower classes--lower in many ways than the slaves, not owned but entirely controlled. Through Zoe's enterprise, however, they were better off than most of their colleagues.

Zoe sorted dishes methodically, devoting her attention to trying to work a plan to get out of their situation. They were firmly and completely under the heels of their conquerors. It was only a matter of time before one of them broke and killed some 混蛋 and got killed or--worse--locked up again. Right at this moment, Zoe wouldn't care to bet on which of them would crack first. Mal concealed that wants-to-murder-them-all expression more and more poorly every day. As for herself... she had a notion of where they needed to go and what they ought to do, but it was Mal's call. He had to come to the decision himself.

"Reynolds. Zoe." The boss's assistant called to them sharply. Everyone--every damned one--treated them like they were the lowest of roaches just waiting to be squashed. "Report to the boss's office at once."

"Yes, sir," Mal said complacently, but Zoe could see the look in his eyes as he marked the twerp into his 'some day' book.

"I'll be right along," Zoe said. She was just about to process another batch of dishes.

When she arrived at their fat-ass boss's office, it was to the sight of Mal up against the wall being searched by an Alliance police officer. The hotel's security chief stood back, giving her a look of smug satisfaction. He'd never liked them being there. In a moment she was against the wall beside Mal, being frisked with excessive thoroughness. A black look passed between her and Mal.

"What's this about?" she demanded.

"You know damned well," the hotel security chief snapped. "Just tell us where the money is and we'll see if we can't cut you some kind of deal."

"What money?" She gritted her teeth as the officer searched and re-searched an area he shouldn't properly be touching at all.

"Don't play games. The money stolen from the petty cash fund right here in the boss's office."

Zoe glanced at Mal. They hadn't talked, but she knew he'd been scouting the place. He barely shook his head. He hadn't done it. They were suspects right off the tick solely because of who and what they were.

"We didn't do it," Mal said, not keeping the anger out of his voice. "You can't arrest us without any evidence." Now, Zoe didn't know if that was true or not.

"They're Independents," one of the police officers said, poking those 他妈的 ident cards in one of their 他妈的 scanners. "That's certainly enough to hold them until we come up with evidence."

Neither bothered to protest further. What would be the use? In fuming, helpless silence they were hauled on back to the jail.

* * *

Mal paced the tiny space. There was nothing else to do. Three gorram days locked in total isolation, not knowing what was going on with Zoe. How long could they hold them without charges? Or evidence? Hell, they could manufacture all the evidence they wanted. Probably keep them locked up forever, as they chose, without evidence. 

Finally the door swung open. "Out," the guard ordered curtly. Mal didn't ask and the guard didn't say where they were going, so he was surprised when a door opened onto the lobby and Zoe was waiting near the door.

Not like to argue with being released, and not even remotely expecting an apology from the 混蛋, Mal looked to Zoe for an explanation. Her face was a set mask, as cold as he'd ever seen her, and as coiled to strike.

"Let's get out of here," she said, setting off rapidly down the street.

"When'd you get out?" Mal asked, pressed to catch up to her.

"Yesterday." Her tone suggested it would be wiser not to question further, but he needed the intel.

"How...?"

"Hotel dropped the charges. Made me an offer, using you to pressure me to take it. Eventually admitted there was no evidence," she said shortly.

"Hey, ease up here," Mal caught her arm. They stopped in the shade by a sidewalk café with a low wall around it. Mal sat down on the wall, looking up at Zoe. "Well... you were right."

"Thanks for say-- right about what?"

Mal gave a bitter laugh. "About _them_. About how they regard us." He saw the question on her face. "We're not soldiers to them. Not now. Not before. Not ever, even when we were in a war fightin' 'em. They never did truly see us as soldiers. We're criminals, pure and simple."

Zoe shook her head with a small laugh. "That was over two years ago I said that."

Mal shrugged. "I had to think on it a bit."

Zoe gave a genuine laugh and started to say something but chopped it off with a groan. Mal glanced up to see two Fed police officers approaching them. He groaned too. Presenting their ident cards as ordered, they were back at the jail in minutes.

Even the desk sergeant was astounded. "Loitering! They haven't been gone from here even five minutes. They couldn't have been loitering long." His lieutenant strode over.

"Lieutenant," one cop protested, "Their idents are tagged. We got orders to arrest their kind at all times on any cause."

"So," Mal inserted, "we're required to show those gorram ident cards, but if'n we do, we get arrested. That so?"

The lieutenant scowled at him. "I'm taking responsibility for dropping this charge. Let 'em go." He stared at them coldly. "It still goes in your permanent profile."

As soon as her hands were free, Zoe seized her ident card off the desk and tried to destroy it. It was tougher than she was, though. The lieutenant watched her mildly for a moment, then said, "It's thirty days plus a fine for destroying an Alliance ident card, miss. And then you have to pay for a new one."

Mal clamped his hand on her wrist and pulled her hard toward the door. "We'll bear that in mind. Thank you kindly, sir."

"It's probably illegal to cuss in public, too," Mal interrupted Zoe half a block away when she was still going strong with the colorful tirade. "I finally got it figured." She simmered down and looked at him. "Um hmm," he said, nodding. "They're herding us."

"Herding us? Where?"

"Now that I don't know. They got the drovers out and they're herding us along. But whether it's to a corral, or off a cliff, I couldn't say."

Zoe sighed. "I think we get to choose. The hotel offered me a deal. Good money. Enough to get you off Beta now, and me some time later." She paused glancing at him. "A five year indentureship."

He went icy still. "Doin' what?"

"House whore," she said. "Oh, they had a prettier name for it, but the work's the same."

Mal smiled in a deadly way. "I ain't even gonna ask what you told 'em."

"Probably wise," she said. "Let's just say I didn't pick the corral."

"So, off the cliff it is, then."

"Seems like."

He pondered a moment. "You know, that's what these fines for all this petty 狗屎 is about too--building up a debt we owe 'em until they can force us into that corral. Indentureships..." He gritted his teeth. "I'd go to hell first. Wonder how many of ours they've lassoed that way."

"You two. Stop there."

Now what? Breathing too much 他妈的 Alliance air? They stopped and turned around. It was the lieutenant from the police station. He approached them with an trace of wariness, Mal noticed. The Fed had no backup and his weapon was holstered.

"Yes, sir, officer. How may we be of service?" Mal hid none of his contempt or anger in his tone or manner. Did the cop know he was dealing with people so close to the edge of the gorram cliff they'd be perfectly willing to take him into the abyss with them?

"At ease, there," the lieutenant said, making a non-threatening gesture with his hands. The cop was a military man. Mal regarded him darkly. That earned him no points. "I'm looking to do you a favor, okay?" the cop said. "I'm getting sick of this 狗屎 too. You people were decent fighters, even though you were dead-ass wrong in your reasons." Such sweet talk. Mal didn't dare look at Zoe. He held the Fed's eye silently. "Just some advice," the lieutenant went on, "and this--" he held out a small paper map and some tube tokens. Mal took them, looking questioningly at the cop. "--get out of the city. There's a black out zone not far off the end of this tube line." He pointed at the map.

"We're not allowed in black out zones," Mal said blandly.

"Exactly," the Fed said.

Mal smiled suddenly, favoring the Fed with a disarmingly pleasant look. "Much appreciated, sir. Closest to a kindness we've known in many a year." Maintaining the smile, Mal held out his hand, a touch surprised the lieutenant shook it.

As he and Zoe turned away down the street, Zoe asked, "Think it's a trap?"

"Absolutely," Mal said. "But at least we know where one of these black out zones is now."

When they were well away, Mal asked softly, "You get it?"

Zoe twitched the edge of her coat open, showing him the cop's wallet. "Easy peasy," she said with a sinister smile.

* * *

Zoe fired with an unhurried, steady rhythm with the carbine she'd just bought with the Fed lieutenant's money. Every shot landed where she intended on a different portion of the Alliance ident card she'd attached to the wall of the ruined building. Mal wasn't firing; didn't have ammo enough to waste. He just practiced landing the pistol in the correct position, without looking, then checking down the sights to see if he was on the mark. 

When Zoe let up, he glanced over at her. Only one small fragment of her ident card remained. "Feel better?" he asked.

"Damned straight," Zoe said. "Good to have a weapon in hand again."

"That it is," he agreed. Holding her eye, he whipped his pistol out to the side and fired without looking. With an icy smile, he turned to sight down the barrel. The last fragment of Zoe's ident card had been blasted cleanly away.

"This building's been bombed," Zoe commented, looking around. "Lots of these have."

"Yeah," Mal said. "I noticed. Don't know of any battles on this world. Civil insurrection maybe?"

"Bombed out their own people? Wouldn't put it past 'em." Zoe sighed. "So, now what?"

Mal sighted down the pistol barrel again. "Crime."

"Crime?"

"Yup. Rob the bastards blind and sleep well after," he said. "You in?"

"Always," Zoe said, a smile creeping over her face.

Mal shook his head, landing the gun barrel in position yet again. "Don't know what my momma'd have to say about her boy turning into a criminal."

Zoe met his eyes. "Momma Reynolds would ask what took you so damned long."

**_Now..._**

Mal and Zoe exchanged a quick smile as the door to the hotel room closed behind them.

"No thieving, this time, more's the pity, but some nice sneaking about."

"I'm thinking we should leave that way tomorrow night," Zoe said.

Mal stood at the window, looking out at their target, as he unbuttoned his shirt. "Sure. Less chance of being spotted going out the side door, too. All that walking about out in the open on that street--especially that street--was making me twitchier than a cat in room full of rocking chairs." Water running sounded behind him. He glanced over. "You are gonna turn into a fish," he said as he tossed his clothes aside and pulled the bedcovers back.

"Right," Zoe said sharply. "Wouldn't want to take even a minute of pleasure on this gorram world."

"Hmmph... I think Jayne's handling that department for all of us." He rolled onto his side, slapping the light off as Zoe slid into the water with some downright unseemly moans. "I'm going to bed," he said, more than a mite terse himself. Tension of the job, that was it. The worrying about the others, and themselves, in this sea of Feds. That's all it was.

_

* * *

Darkness. Smothering, suffocating darkness. Silence of the grave. No feeling. Utterly alone. Buried alive... _

Mal woke with a start. Pitch dark. Didn't know where he was. Just knew it was bad. Sat up abruptly. Nightmare to waking blurred. Then a soft, drowsy voice in the dark steadied him. Salvation reaching out into the nothing--a lifeline.

"Sir?"

Zoe.

She hit the light on her side of the bed and he could see the room around them; knew where they were and why. And why he'd had that particular nightmare--not so much a dream as a sensation, crawling over and through him. Overwhelming dark oppression.

"Are you all right?"

Mal leaned forward. Buried his face in his hands, breathing hard.

"Jesus God Almighty."

The bed shifted slightly as Zoe moved. Very softly, she said, "That sounded like a prayer."

Mal gave a tight laugh. Trying to steady his breathing, he glanced upward, then over at Zoe. "More like blasphemy," he said with a twitch of a smile. "Best get back clear of the lightning bolt."

Zoe chuckled. Her gaze probed him. Their eyes met with full communication between them. "I've been having some bad ones, too," she said quietly. "It's the being here. What was this one about?"

Mal shook his head. "I don't even remember." He did. Could still feel it crawling over him like the hands of death. Zoe didn't believe him. That was clear. "You can stop fretting," he added, rubbing his eyes. "I'm fine. Go back to sleep." He lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, not real eager to close his eyes. Zoe watched him a minute more, then reached for her light.

"But..." Mal said. Zoe stopped her hand. "Don't... leave..." He hesitated, then bit the words out, "Don't turn out the light. It's too dark in here."

Slowly, Zoe said, "I've never known the dark to bother you."

He shook his head. "It doesn't. I don't let it. Can't."

Zoe didn't say anything. He didn't expect she would. Instead she dimmed the light down to a warm glow. The bed shifted as she moved. Mal turned his head toward her in surprise when he felt her touch on his arm. She slid down beside him, drawing him close.

"Zoe..." he started.

"Sssshhh." Slowly, almost methodically, she wrapped herself around him.

After a moment of hesitation, he put his arms around her. Mal closed his eyes and the darkness didn't bother him... not so much, at least. Her breath was warm on his neck. The even rhythm of her breathing soothed his own still-ragged breaths. Though twined as close together as two people could be, there was nothing even remotely sexual about it. It was a thing deeper and stronger than mere passion.

"Your husband..." Mal felt obliged to say.

"Ain't here," Zoe murmured. "And we're doin' nothing wrong."

Both were silent a long time. Then Mal said, "I ain't even been thinking about it." He didn't explain the 'what' of it. Zoe knew. The eternal weeks--months--he'd been locked in that dark cell beneath the prison. Contemplating on all the death, all the loss, in that tomb. He took several deep breaths. Zoe's grip tightened around him. "It just never quite goes away. None of it."

"Never will," Zoe said in a bare whisper. "We live with it. And go on."

"You really should get some sleep," Mal said, trying to sound normal--well, normalish--and captainy. He wasn't real keen to sleep himself, not with the dark still so close, but he ought not trouble Zoe's rest.

"Not really wanting to," Zoe said. "Got a good set of my own nightmares just waiting to happen."

"Yeah? You can force good dreams, if you work at it enough," Mal said. Mostly he could. Though dreams of good times made the morning less easy they made the nights more tolerable. "Being _here_, though... it's making it hard."

"I hear that," Zoe agreed. "Impossible."

"Well, then, think on some of the good times here," Mal suggested.

Zoe pulled back slightly, staring at him. "Weren't any I recollect."

"Come on. There had to be."

They fell silent, contemplating.

"I got nothing," Zoe said after a minute.

Mal pondered a bit longer. "How about that first big job. The prison guard's payroll. That was pure and utter goodness."

A soft snort from Zoe. "You got shot."

"Yeah, but we got the money."

"You almost died."

He frowned. "Okay. But, you see, I don't really remember that part too clear. Just that we got the money and got away clean."

"They hunted us for weeks," Zoe said, her voice rising a touch.

Mal nodded thoughtfully. "Again, not too clear on that part. I just remember the good parts."

Zoe said curtly, "Let's see... when you weren't delirious with fever, or nearly blinded with pain, you were unconscious. The unconscious must be the good part you're latching on to."

"I do recollect the you getting snippy part," Mal said. It was a curiosity how they could manage to argue while still holding each other without slacking their grip even a bit.

Zoe relaxed again in his arms and chuckled. "Well, you scared me." Then, so soft he barely heard the words. "Couldn't have stood to lose you." He squeezed her tighter. That was more than mutual.

**_Five Years Earlier..._**

Mal leaned on her heavily as Zoe half-dragged him into their small room. Dumping him down on the bed, she moved quickly toward the window, carbine in hand as she scanned the street. A loud groan burst from Mal as he tried to lay down.

"Quiet," Zoe snapped. He chopped the groan off, gritting his teeth and panting. She moved to the other window, watching and listening.

"Looks like we're okay," she said, still studying the street. "For now."

Setting her gun down on the table within easy reach, she pulled Mal's pistol from her waistband where she'd tucked it, setting it by one of the windows, ready to use. A quick, steadying breath and she turned toward him.

"Well, let's see how you are," she said, keeping her voice light and unworried. His eyes squeezed tightly closed, a sheen of sweat glistened on his face. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she eased away the hand he had clenched over his side. It trembled slightly in her grip. He opened his eyes and she saw a too-familiar vagueness start to cloud them.

"Hey," she said sharply, giving him a smack on the cheek. "Stay conscious." He blinked rapidly and she could see him fight the creeping darkness. If he went into shock she wouldn't be able to pull him back. Grabbing a wash cloth, she wiped at the entry wound. "It's not bleeding too bad," she said. She ran her hand over his side. He flinched and groaned. No exit wound. "Bullet's still in there, though." She leaned over and pressed her ear against his chest. Lungs sounded clear, near as she could tell. Probably not bleeding internally. Hell, he'd be dead by now if he was.

"How bad?" he asked.

Zoe pressed the cloth to the oozing bullet hole, moving Mal's hand over it. "Press," she ordered. She stood, moving to check the windows. "You've survived worse," she said distantly. But not without any sort of medical care. They had no drugs to ease pain and halt infection. No tools to pull out bullets and stitch up wounds. No disinfectants. No bandages. They had nothing. It retrospect it was an obvious oversight in the plan. Even in the crudest, roughest of battlefield conditions they'd had more and better than they had now, save for that last week at Serenity Valley. And there would be no evac here, except to a jail and possibly on to a gallows.

"You need a hospital," Zoe said. "At least a doctor." Mal didn't answer, just gave a short laugh that turned into a long groan. "You're not like to bleed to death, but if that bullet doesn't come out and the wound get cleaned, you'll probably die of infection." She said it so coolly and analytically. Just another battlefield death. Just one more. Don't look at the face. Don't notice the 'who' of who it is. Just a dead body. An object. Nothing more. Pile it on the fortifications and never mind the blood pouring out.

"Then you gotta get the bullet out," he said. It wasn't really an order. He wasn't ordering her to do it. She sort of wished he would. Then she wouldn't have to decide which way he should die, from a festering bullet wound or at her hand through clumsy battlefield surgery.

Still looking out the window, she said tiredly, "We've got no supplies. Nothing for pain." She glanced at him as he watched her with bright, serious eyes. "You'll be in for a gawdawful time of it."

"There's no kind of choice," he said, pausing to close his eyes and breathe heavily, fighting a spasm of pain.

Zoe made the choice. "Well," she said brusquely, "then it's got to be right now. 'Cause they'll be coming after us--to here--sooner or later. They didn't I.D. us, but you know we've got to be on the short list of suspects, just because of who and what we are." He nodded. "You're gonna be a lot worse off before you're any better. So we're gonna have to do this thing, and then move soon as possible. 懂吗? He swallowed hard, then nodded.

She crossed to sit on the edge of the bed again. Zoe reached to brush back his hair with a fond gesture, stopped herself, instead laying her hand on his forehead, feeling already creeping heat of a fever. Ramming all feelings deep down within her, Zoe shut them off, moving to do what she needed to for the injured man on the bed. He wasn't nobody. Just another object needing to be dealt with.


	8. Chapter 8: Zoe's Tale

**Blue Sun Job**: _Zoe's Tale_  
靑日 Job: _Zoe's Tale_

_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters _

混蛋 hwoon dahn (hundan) bastard  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck,used for all variations  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?

**

* * *

Chapter 8 **

_To have and to hold..._

Zoe let the words drift through her mind as she held close to the man who wasn't her husband. So seldom they'd done this, her and Mal. Beyond rare. Once in the far distant Before he'd pulled her in close to offer comfort for a shared grief and she'd pushed him away. It had been a shattering moment in their relationship then and one never spoken on by either of them since. Then the wartime came, and despite where they'd left off years earlier he'd walked through the fire for her, violating more orders than she could count, to save her from a hellish fate. It forged a new bond between them based on absolute loyalty and--ultimately--unquestionable trust. Zoe had no imagining of a debt she needed to repay--it wasn't that at all. There was no owing, no obligation, the give and take passed all accounting, and made the bond all the stronger for it.

The war and Serenity Valley effectively erased the people they had once been as thoroughly as it had erased their lives, families, and worlds. Only the two of them remained in the midst of deep shadows of loss. Aware she was all Mal had for a long time, Zoe wasn't sure he realized the reverse was just as true. When she'd gone to his bed, holding to him through a sleepless night those many years before in that prison, it hadn't been as much to comfort him, to give him a lifeline to another human soul whose existence mattered, as to cling on to her own lifeline. Without Mal it was she who would have been lost, lost to the hatred, to the darkness that for years constantly tried to swallow both of them, the darkness they sometimes--often--embraced rather than resisted.

That first real robbery they had done had nearly split them apart. Mal had no comprehension of that, Zoe knew, or he wouldn't have spoken of it as a goodness. She'd held that secret, as so many others, closely walled off within herself. Zoe felt his arms tighten when she whispered "couldn't have stood to lose you." She couldn't have stood it. After all was said and done she'd almost left once and for all rather than risk having to watch him die.

**_Five Years Earlier..._**

Zoe froze in the doorway at the click of a gun being brought to full cock. Mal squinted at her from the bed, trying to focus on her. He looked feverish, possibly hallucinating, yet the gun barrel never wavered so much as a millimeter. Then recognition filled his eyes. He groaned softly, tilting the barrel away from her, uncocking the pistol, and letting his arm fall to his side. Zoe entered the room, closing the door behind her.

Setting her package down on the table, she crossed to the bed, prying the pistol from Mal's fingers. At his questioning look, she said, "I'm about to cause you some serious hurting and I don't want you shooting me." She kept her voice light, adding a gentle smile. He was too miserable to fake much of a smile in return, but made the effort. Zoe studied him a moment. Didn't look good. Pain etched every line on his flushed face. Breathing labored---she didn't like the looks of that but it seemed to be just from fighting the pain, not internal bleeding. Nothing she could do about it either way.

"I couldn't get much," Zoe said, turning toward the table. "They know they shot one of us--they're searching for an injured man. Every doctor, every pharmacy, is being watched. I did get some alcohol..."

"Alcohol?" he asked hopefully.

Zoe glanced over with a flash of a real smile. "Not the drinking kind." He groaned in response. "Some bandages." Well, strips of cloth, none too sterile. A needle and thread to stitch him up if he survived the cutting. No, don't think on that. One thing at a time. Don't look past the _now_ to the _then_. Deal with each moment, each problem, as it comes. Wiping at her face, Zoe methodically prepared the sadly inadequate supplies, at the same time preparing herself, seeking out the cold, blank darkness that buried all feeling and caring.

Checking the windows once more for Alliance patrols, Zoe took a deep breath. "Ready?" It sounded like a 'yes' moan he made.

"You can't make any noise," Zoe said as she helped roll Mal over. "Any of our good 'neighbors' would turn us in for the reward in an instant." She arranged his arms so he could take a grip on the edge of the mattress. Moistening a fold of cloth, she put it between his teeth. "Now, relax," she ordered, waiting until he had forced himself to untense. Slowly, carefully, she slid her hand over his side to his back. Zoe knew the instant she'd found where the bullet was lodged. He went rigid, but only a small whimper escaped. Ignoring the pain she was causing--there was plenty more to come--Zoe probed the spot until she could feel the hard lump of lead buried in muscle and flesh.

Zoe felt curiously remote as she cleaned the area with alcohol. Piling up bodies. Dying groans. The smell of blood and death. They'd gone but never left. "If you've given any thought to passing out," she said from a great distance, "now would be a good time."

No 'ready?' No 'count of three.' Zoe poised her knife and cut hard and deep.

_

* * *

His eyes flickered open to a golden glow. Blinking, his gaze roamed without really seeing until he came to rest on what he sought. Zoe. Elbows propped on a rough table, her forehead rested on folded hands. He wished she'd look over so he could see her eyes sparkle in the lamplight. But she stared downward at the open book. Zoe weren't usually much of a Bible reader. That one night, though... He blinked again. Was this now or then? He couldn't tell. A vigil for the dying. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me... On Shadow. In shadows? It was so hot in here. Hell come a callin'? _

_He reached up, grasping at his neck for the silver chain. Gone. Where had it gone? Zoe looked up. Over at him. Her eyes... solace enough. He slipped back away into the dark._

Zoe paced. Restless. Anxious. Angry. Angry at Mal as much as anything. Stupid gorram plan. Rob the 混蛋 behind their own lines with no solid escape route? Just stay hid in their own territory. Stupid. She should have said something. But she hadn't considered it either. Just figured they wouldn't get caught. They hadn't. Got away, just not quite clean. Not quite smooth.

Checking the windows, again, Zoe glanced over at Mal. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness, or seemed to. He didn't seem fully aware even when his eyes were open. She had to get him up, get him out of here to the relative safety of a blackout zone. The patrols were sweeping in tighter, scooping up every Independent they found. She glanced at Mal again. As soon as they found one with a fresh gunshot wound the hunt would be over. So would they.

They needed help and she didn't know where or how to get it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Zoe dipped a cloth in a pan of water, sponging off Mal's sweaty face. She didn't know if it helped, if it made one gorram bit of difference at all, but it was all she could do. His eyes opened, resting on her without recognition.

"Mal," she said. Nothing. "Sergeant," she snapped. The title got a blink of acknowledgement that the name didn't. She didn't need him fully coherent, just functioning on an instinctive, ingrained level would do. "Sarge." She didn't soften her tone. "We're caught behind enemy lines and need to get moving. Can you do that?"

He nodded, holding on to a semblance of consciousness. Where he really was, which battlefield, which mission, Zoe didn't really care, as long as the years of survival and combat training held. "There are enemy patrols all around us," she said in a harsh whisper as she gathered supplies, their few belongings--and the money. "Absolute quiet. 懂吗?"

"Didn't see the sniper," he murmured.

"Wouldn't be a very good sniper if you saw him," she said, slinging the pack over her shoulder. She pulled Mal into a sitting position. He groaned.

Blinking rapidly, his eyes fixed on her. "Zoe? What are you doing here?"

"Beats the hell out of me," she answered. Her head spun toward the windows. The heart-chilling clatter of Alliance troopers echoed through the street. The signature sound of the way they slung their gear reached Mal too. Zoe saw his eyes darken as he turned toward the windows.

"Help me up," he ordered, and it was unmistakably an order. Rapidly, she got his shirt and coat on him, bending to hoist him to his feet. He wavered but held onto consciousness.

_

* * *

Mal woke to a soothing kind of darkness, a half-wall giving them cover in the ruins of a bombed out building. A familiar sort of place. Battle must be over. It was so quiet. A shadow moved nearby. Zoe. On watch. That was good. He could rest. So tired. _

_Zoe moved close, resting her hand in his forehead. It was a comfort. He'd tried to comfort her once and she wouldn't let him. Hurtful times. Didn't matter. All long gone. Dead and buried. Past redemption._

"Zoe." The two men greeted her cautiously.

"Private. Corporal," she said, giving each an acknowledging nod. "I need some help..." how she hated to admit that, "...and hoping you can provide it."

"For the sarge?" the corporal asked, gesturing toward the still form on the ground. "Anything. We're still alive 'cause of him." Zoe felt her hope rise a touch. "But..." Of course, she thought, always 'but'. "...but we ain't got the means. We're as stuck here as you."

Zoe glanced up at the blue gas giant hanging on the horizon. Beyond its edge the glittering ball of wealth and power that was Alpha shone. She shifted her gaze to the other disk in the sky--Delta. "We've got to get off world. Sarge needs medicine and real doctoring. Everything here is locked down tight. Is there any way...?"

"There might be," the private cut her off. "We've been working the fringe a bit more than you. Got in touch with a..." he hesitated, glanced at Mal, seemed to reach a decision, "...an underground of sorts. Very tight. Very secret."

"Independents?" Zoe asked.

"Some. More of us getting in all the time. Couldn't say who and how got it all started. Could might be it explains this--" he gestured toward the ruins of the blackout zone. "I think they'll help, if we tell it right." He looked at her steadily. "Take some money, though."

Zoe chuckled. "Strange to say, but that is the one thing we do have at this particular juncture."

* * *

Days he slept. Days she didn't. Zoe woke from a too-short nap at Mal's groans and thrashing. She held his arms pinned until he stilled. He wasn't getting any better. Holding on, but no more. Often delirious, he said a few disjointed things she tried hard not to hear. The flashbacks to the hell of the war she could bear. It was the fractured comments about the Before that burned into her. Too much history. Put it all in a closet, lock the door, and never look inside. 

Her carbine snapped into position at the faint sound of a shifting pebble.

"It's me," the private said. She lowered her weapon, but just a little. "Tonight. When Alpha rises," he said, handing her a pouch. She looked inside. A small vial and a needle. Another package. Zoe swallowed hard at what she saw inside there. Looking up, she nodded.

_Zoe's face in the darkness bending over him. He smiled. She stretched his arm out. Her hand was cool. Like a little oasis. She pressed a needle against his arm. _

"_What's that?" Didn't care. _

"_Ssshhh," she said, not looking up. The needle slid in. "It'll make you feel better." _

_A drowsy numbness crawled over him. Enveloping him. He sighed and surrendered to it. Zoe was on watch anyhow._

* * *

She didn't like public transport. Not at all. And she didn't trust that other one--the underground contact. He wasn't one of them. He was an outsider and she didn't like the way he looked at them. But the idents he produced got them through and on. Zoe sat rigidly on the shuttle, one hand clamped on Mal's forearm as he leaned heavily against her. The wait seemed forever until the doors hissed closed and they lifted. 

_Mal climbed from a black fog to a gray fog. Staring at the fuzzy grayness, he tried to rub his eyes, to clear his vision, but couldn't. Looking down, he twisted his hands, puzzled. He was handcuffed. When had that happened? Tilting his head slightly he stared at the face above the gray Fed uniform beside him. It was vaguely familiar. One of the prison guards? Were they taking him back there? He didn't want to go back there. Not ever. Not to the black, silent grave there... _

_The gray fog fell away outside the window and sunlight hit him full in the face. Squeezing his eyes closed, he moaned and turned away. _

_A hand tightened on his arm. He opened his eyes. Zoe? He blinked. Grey uniform. When had Zoe joined the Feds? This was more than ordinary unsettling. _

"_Quiet," she hissed. It was an order. Did he take orders from Zoe? Didn't he outrank her? Seemed wiser to obey. _

The security officer checked their idents and papers. "What's the matter with him?" he asked, jerking his head toward Mal, slumped in the seat, staring blankly at Zoe. "He looks sick."

"Sedated," Zoe said tightly. "Keeps 'em quiet during transport."

"Ummm. Good idea," the officer said, handing their cards and papers back. "Better yet we should just space him. 他妈的 Independents."

Zoe and the Fed-uniformed Independent on the other side of Mal chuckled agreeably. The security officer didn't notice the look in their eyes. Nor the tightening of trigger fingers on weapons of the Fed-uniformed Independent corporal and the underground operative seated opposite them.

The security officer moved on. Glancing at Mal, Zoe saw his eyes were fixed on her.

"Better give him another shot," the private said, low.

"There's not much left. And we still gotta get him through the port," Zoe whispered. She looked down to see how Mal was doing. He'd dozed off with his head resting on her shoulder. Probably have nightmares about seeing her in this uniform. She took a deep, sighing breath. Might have a few nightmares about it herself.

**_Now..._**

"Huh," Mal said quietly. "Yeah, I've had a nightmare or two with you in an Alliance uniform. Had no notion that was real."

Zoe chuckled. She'd told him a somewhat censored version of the tale, keeping the impersonal facts and leaving out the raw feelings. "Drugged you senseless again on the way through the port on Delta. Then onto that place they set us up in. Hole in the wall dive but the Feds didn't come sniffing around that area so it was safe from them. Not so safe from the cut-throats, thieves, and the like in that area, though. Got you real medicines and a more-or-less real doctor to fix you up. You really don't remember any of that?"

She felt him shrug slightly. "Bits and pieces. Some real. Some probably not. It explains why you were so twitchy on the shuttle ride here. Not a comfort that's our escape route this time too, huh?"

"Not so much," Zoe said. She paused. "It'll work out. Always does somehow or another."

"That why you came back?" he asked softly.

Speaking of raw feelings... Zoe squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. "You knew why I left after that?" she asked.

"Had a good notion," Mal said. "Had the same one myself. That's why you got all kinda colder and snippier the better I got. Safer if there's no one you care about. No complications. Simpler."

She sighed. "Yeah. Simpler." But he hadn't died that time. He'd come back from the brink to her, that time and every time since. Just as she had. Maybe some day that tenuous thread of luck would run out, but for now it was still the one bit of faith she had--and suspected he had. She was never really surprised when they beat the odds one more time. He always came back. "First time you die for permanent, though, I'm outta here," she said fiercely, but with a hint of humor.

Mal got it. Chuckled low. "Likewise. So it's 'til death..." He stopped.

_...us do part._

Zoe finished the phrase in her head; knew he had too. They held a tight silence for a long time. He'd asked once and she'd refused. They'd just been kids... too young, too stupid... and not really in love. Later, too old--though not in years--and with too much ugly, warping history standing between them. Love, or something like it, but no longer any passion. She should roll away. Stop this conversation now. Leave the wall up. Keep the closet door locked. Don't tread in the land of dead lives. She didn't. It was rare they talked like this and would like to be rarer still in the years to come. Confession was good for the soul, she'd heard it told. The only one she could confess to was the one man who already knew all there was to know, who wouldn't be shocked or tarnished by what was.

Mal must have been thinking along those lines too. "You told Wash any of that tale?" he asked, a hint of captainy-ness or sergeant-ness creeping into his tone.

"No," she said shortly.

"He thinks we met in the army, don't he? Old army buddies..."

"He may have jumped to a conclusion I didn't see fit to correct," Zoe said. "You fed him one yourself the other night saying that was the only time we'd ever slept together like that. And no sex."

"Well, there wasn't."

"He took 'no' to mean 'never'," she said.

"I ain't gonna correct him. And I don't recall no sleepin' them other times. Just a whole helluva lot of rolling around in the hay," Mal said. Both chuckled, a trifle guiltily, Zoe thought. "Okay," Mal said, nudging her away. "Just not the conversation to be having with you all plastered up against me this way."

"Right." She rolled away, but not far. Side by side but no touching. As it usually was. The normal way of things.


	9. Chapter 9: More of Zoe's Tale

**Blue Sun Job:** _More of Zoe's Tale_  
靑日 Job: _More of Zoe's Tale_

**Chapter 9**

_Do you remember...? _

_Of course... Always. Everything. _

_Ain't necessarily a comfort..._

"Wash has been good for you," Mal commented

Zoe turned her head to look at him, studying his expression to see if he was being serious or sarcastic. Mal stared upward with a distant, thoughtful look, a thousand light year stare. She read nothing but truthsomeness in his face.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," she answered carefully. There was a time, long ago, she'd have never questioned that he was being absolutely truthful. So much had changed.

He flicked her a quick, insolent glance. "Mite surprised to be saying it."

"Didn't think you necessarily approved of me marrying Wash."

"Yeah, well..." Mal gave her a half-grin. "He is kind of an idiot sometimes."

With mock ferocity, she said, "Watch it. That's my husband you're talking about."

"And he's my pilot. First. Being suited to one thing don't mean he's suited to the other. Though judging from the noises comin' through the bulkhead, something fittin' is goin' on in your bunk."

"Oh, yeah... fits real well."

He grimaced, then rolled up on his elbow, facing her. "What is with those toy dinosaurs? He got a screw loose or something?"

She snorted. "Which among the crew of _Serenity_ makes him what? Normal? Sane? Well adjusted?"

"It is a curious bunch of strays we've gathered," Mal said, rolling back away from her.

Zoe smiled wistfully. "That they are. They've been good for _you._ Especially Kaylee."

"Hmmph. Making an old man of me before my time, the whole worrisome lot of them. But Kaylee is a sweetie. A walkin' bundle of happy."

Chuckling, Zoe said, "You looked so startled the first time she gave you a hug and a kiss. But it also made you smile and that came as a bit of a shock to me."

" 'bout as much of a shock, I suppose, as came to me the first time Wash swatted you on the butt and you didn't break his arm. You giggled. Hadn't heard that sound in more years than I care to count. Scary sound. Terrifying, might say. But shiny too." He fell silent and Zoe knew he was remembering those years, just as was she.

"It does worry me," Zoe whispered uncomfortably. Back away, Zoe. Leave it all buried. Leave the doors closed.

Mal didn't answer for a moment. "All you ain't told him." He hadn't said it as a question. Zoe frowned, turning her head away so he couldn't see her face. "About me?" Mal asked. "Us? And all what was?"

Zoe swallowed hard, clamping down onto the cool control that had seen her through so many hard times. "Yes," she said shortly. "We've had fights about you."

"This ain't news to me," he said and she could hear some amusement creep into his tone.

"It's not funny."

"Kinda is. You're afraid to tell him and he's afraid to ask so you yell at each other instead of just settling it once and for all."

"You have a warped sense of humor," Zoe said. "Wash thinks you're crazy, you know."

"Sure. Probably am."

"Probably?"

He looked over at her. "Which comes to the heart of the matter. If I'm crazy, so are you. Sooner or later he'll be wanting to know the whys and wherefores. Or he'll find out when you don't mean him to. You gotta decide how you want it to be."

Zoe couldn't keep the trace of desperation out of her voice. "I want it to be simple. I want it to be pure. I don't want him to look at me and see the cold and dark. I don't want to look into his eyes and see him looking back with revulsion. Or contempt. Or disgust. Or worst of all, pity."

Mal reached over. Zoe felt his hand touch her cheek, gently at first, then firmly turning her to face him. His eyes stared into her steadily. "Don't see how that could ever happen, not less'n I've been reading that husband of yours every kind of wrong. Listen... I ever look at you that way?" She shook her head slightly. "I know everything there is to know. I've hurt you. Been hurt by you. Seen you at your best and seen you at your worst. Trust that this man you say loves you will love you still no matter what. I know you ain't afraid of losing, got plenty practice at that..." Zoe's lips twisted in an involuntary smile at his tone. "...don't be afraid of winning."

"That was a real pretty speech, sir. But you're a fine one to tell someone to spill their guts," Zoe said, a bit harsher than she intended. "You ever bare your soul? Make a full confession? Gonna tell me all the clichés next? Where there's life, there's hope. Every day's a gift. Wishes can come true?"

Mal laughed sharply. "Set that one to music, darlin', and you could dance to it. Life's a game and we all play our parts. None of it means a thing." He paused, struggling upright, propping the pillow up, leaned against it, folding his arms over his chest. Zoe twisted around so she could see him. "Seriously, Zoe," he said, "we're just passing a sleepless night here, and not the first. Don't mean nothing. But if you got something you need to talk out," he shrugged, "I'll listen. Got no pretense between us. It doesn't have to be all 'good' and 'fine'. If you're worried, you can be worried. Got no secrets between us I know of. You can tell me anything."

"You said something like that to me once before. Do you remember?"

"Of course I remember."

**_Early years of the war..._**

Sergeant Reynolds turned carefully at the junction of the corridor, aiming his rifle down each passageway. Too many branches and blind corners with no one to watch his back. Worrisome. He could hear distant gunfire spattering, punctuated by occasional dull thuds of explosions. The diversion still going strong. Bless those lads. A good bunch--crazy as bedbugs--to follow him on this damned fool suicide mission.

Or so the brass had called it when they'd flat-ass ordered him "no". Funny how that big fellow--the one called Monty--didn't take a shine to the notion until he found out Mal was gonna be violating all manner of direct orders to pull it off. Mal guessed not everyone in the army was straight by-the-book after all. Made sense the rebels would have a little rebel in 'em.

Flattening against the wall, Mal quickly consulted the rough map of the complex he'd drawn on the back of his left hand. All the prisoners accounted for--freed or dead--save one. _One._ Where...? Hadn't meant to have to probe in here this far. He was gonna get hisself killed and then he'd be in big trouble with the brass.

With a last glance at his hand, he chose his route. An ugly hunch had come to mind that might lead him to her. Though he had more than a good notion of what the bastards were capable of, there were still some lines he didn't figure a decent soldier doin' his duty would cross. Or would they?

The door to the rec room was ajar. Mal kicked it open, leveling his rifle in a sweep across the room. Chairs were scattered, tipped as the 'plex's guards had rushed out at the first sounds of the attack. Only one soul remained in the room.

Zoe.

Mal couldn't take the time out to offer up a proper prayer, just sent a quick, almost wordless plea upwards, then knelt beside her. Swallowing hard, he tried not to look too close at the evidence of what they'd been doing to her. There was blood. Quite a lot, it seemed. Bruises and cuts. She'd put up a good tussle. Didn't figure she'd do no different. Always was quite a gal. Tough. Tough enough to get through this, he hoped. He flicked a finger without thinking about it across the cross hanging from his neck, feeling it through his shirt.

"Zoe," he said, carefully turning her face toward him. One eye was swollen. A bruise on her cheek. She moaned, not quite conscious. Laying his fingers on the side of her neck, he felt her pulse. Steady and strong. Glancing back at the door--nothing--he dug out a mini-injector, field type, and jabbed it into the side of her neck, then tossed it aside. The combination of pain-killer and stimulant brought a stronger moan.

Zoe's eyes snapped open. Mal involuntarily jerked back. God. Her eyes... deadly. Cold. Almost feral. Not the bright, shining, flashing girl he'd known once upon a time. These bastards would pay for this. They would pay.

"Zoe. Can you hear me?" Black eyes fixed on him with hatred searing out of them. He looked back steadily, willing his caring to reach her. "Zoe...?"

A blink. "Mal Reynolds?" Her voice was a harsh whisper. "What are you doing here?"

He chuckled. "Beats the hell out of me. But it 'pears I'm rescuing you." He reached toward her.

She jolted hard. "Don't touch me!"

He pulled back. "Okay. No touching. But I gotta get you loose and get you out of here. So you just suck it up and let me do what I have to do. Can you do that?"

She nodded. Fiercely. Sharply.

Mal studied on how to free her. They had her cuffed to the legs of a table, bolted to the floor--he couldn't lift it up. Her arms spread wide. The metal dug into her wrists. He frowned. He could hunt this room for the key a dangerous amount of time without finding it. Digging it his pouch, he pulled out a pocket torch.

"I gotta cut these chains. Just stay still." Like she had a choice. She writhed when a spark landed on her bare flesh but made no sound.

The first chain parted. He stepped over her to the other. A bare glance toward the doorway. Zoe made a small sound. She heard it too--the clatter of boots nearing. Gritting his teeth, Mal concentrated on the right-now problem. The torch sputtered, nearing the end of its fuel. Grasping Zoe's wrist, Mal yanked hard. The remaining hot metal of the chain snapped.

"Come on," he said, pulling her to her feet. With an uncomfortable glance at her, he shrugged out of his long, tan coat, tossing it toward her. "Put that on." He snatched up his rifle. "You have to keep to your feet, Zoe. I have to cover us. Can you do that?" She nodded. "You follow my lead," he ordered, edging toward the doorway.

They were cut off from the route he'd come in. The clatter neared. "This way." He headed the other way. Only option. A glance at the map on his hand. Right turn. Spinning to try to cover all directions at once.

He fired off a burst. A scream from one. The others fell back. More. Behind them. He spun and fired. Two more.

"Back this way." They stepped over the two bodies. One squirmed.

"Got a knife?" Zoe asked. Mal didn't answer. Fired another burst. In moments they'd be cut off. "I'm gonna finish him off," she hissed in a raspy whisper. He felt her snatch his knife from the sheath at his waist but couldn't spare time to glance or comment. Another burst. One more and they had a chance to get through. Just poke your head out you sumbitch.

The high-pitched squeal behind Mal caused him to flick a micro-second glance back. The sight registered. His head snapped back around to stare.

"Good God, Zoe! That is _not_ what 'finish him off' means."

A shot caught him in the right shoulder, slamming him back against the wall. Fire like he'd never known burned through his chest and down his arm. His fingers numbed, losing his grip on his rifle. The 'one more' edged around the corner, leveling his weapon at Mal for the fatal shot. Mal struggled to grasp his rifle with his left hand. Wasn't gonna make it.

A flash whipped by his head. The knife blade buried to the hilt in the Fed's chest. The Fed's eyes widened, startled, looking past Mal as the life ebbed from them as he slid to the floor.

Leaning against the wall, Mal panted, turning to look at Zoe. Her face was a mask of ice. Her eyes shifted to meet his. A hint of the girl he'd known shone through. Still Zoe.

"That'll teach you to look away from the enemy during a fight," she said with a chilly grin.

"You teaching me how to soldier?" he grated out through the dazzling pain, seizing his rifle left-handed. She reached out, helping him position it so he could fire one-handed. She snatched up one of the Alliance soldier's rifles.

"Appears you need it." Her smile broadened a touch. "Now let's get the hell out of here. You lead. I got your back."

Mal laughed. "Good to see you again, Zoe."

"You too."

* * *

Sergeant Reynolds stopped outside of Zoe's infirmary room. Through the glass window he could see her on the bed. Her head was turned, staring at the blank white wall with a light years distant stare. He swallowed and looked at the doctor. 

"Well?" he asked.

"Physically she'll be fine," the doctor said, flipping through chart pages. "No lasting damage. Should be able to have more children. As for the other..." He shrugged. "These times being what they are..." He sighed. "There's just no therapy or coddling to be had. She'll have to just soldier through, or not, like the rest of us."

Mal looked away from Zoe to study the doctor's face. He looked to be on the brink of exhaustion or collapse himself. "Just gotta have faith," Mal said softly. He gave the doctor a warm smile. "Thanks, doc. And thanks for patching me up, too. I'll try not to give you so much business in the future."

His smile broadening at the doctor's expression. Every ward was filled with the results of Mal's illegal mission. Lots of folks shot up--some real bad--but none killed. And they'd rescued five from the captured ship, including Zoe.

"You kids," the doctor snorted, stomping off away.

* * *

Zoe turned her head sharply, warily, at the sound of the door opening. It was Malcolm Reynolds, grinning at her like they were meeting up again at some gorram barndance instead of in an Independent's base hospital. He moved very slowly, though, limping badly. His right shoulder was heavily bandaged, arm in a sling and strapped down to his chest. His light brown shirt was draped over his right shoulder, open in front. Zoe's eyes fixed on the plain silver cross he wore on a chain around his neck. Took some guts, she suspected, to do so openly in the midst of the rough soldiering world. 

He eased down into a chair by her bedside, lowering himself gingerly with winces and groans. "Ooohhh..." he let out a sigh, then turned a boyish grin on her.

"You look like hell," Zoe said, studying every inch of him, savoring the sight like an oasis in the desert. "That all happen on account of me?"

He chuckled. "It's nothing. Been hurt plenty worse than this."

She shook her head. "You are a terrible liar, Malcolm Reynolds. Got no knack for it."

Shrugging, he grinned at her. "Okay. Never got more than a scratch before this." He shifted, groaning painfully. "Don't think I want to make a habit of this getting shot up." His expression softened as he looked at her. "How you doing, darlin'?"

Zoe looked away quickly. "Fine. I'm good. And don't call me that."

"Sure. Never again." He seemed to hesitate. She glanced back at him. "Listen... Zoe. You want to talk... ever..."

"I don't want to," she said, knowing she sounded harsh but not able to care. "But thanks," she added.

"Whenever..."

Zoe stared away, at the blank white wall. "Daddy got killed when they took the ship."

"I know," he said softly.

"We were gun-running for your side. Independent cargo hidden beneath the Alliance load."

"_Our_ side," Mal whispered. She turned back to face him. Nodded. _Our side_. She was in. For always.

She worked her mouth, blinking hard for a moment. No tears. She never cried. Never would. Zoe swallowed. "How long you been in?" she asked, glancing at his uniform shirt and trousers.

"Nigh onto a year now."

"And a sergeant already."

He laughed lightly. "For now," he said wryly. "After this little stunt I'll probably get busted back to dishwasher. Assuming, that is, they don't court martial me and throw me in the brig."

She stared. "All that? For me?"

"Come on... you think when I heard the name of the ship they snagged I wouldn't go all out to find you?" He smiled at her and she could see the cheery, perpetually optimistic boy from Shadow still shining through the do-what-needs-to-be-done soldier.

"I won't doubt it again," she murmured. "I'm sorry for all..."

He put a hand up to stop her. "Let it go. All's forgiven and forgotten. Let the dead bury themselves and move on."

She studied him thoughtfully. Be nice to have the sort of confident faith he had. If she couldn't manage to find it in the Lord, maybe she could tag along a bit on his faith, have faith in him. Zoe managed a slight smile.

"When were you last on Shadow?" she asked.

"Better than a year. Sure as hell can't go back now 'less I wanna end up in some Alliance stockade. Feds don't like folk what shoot at 'em."

Trust Mal to inject humor into the bleakest situations. She knew Shadow had been overrun and suppressed. "The ranch...?"

A slight shake of his head. "Confiscated. Lock, stock, and barrel. Put the torch to it ourselves rather than turn it over to _them_."

"I'll bet they didn't take kindly to that."

A laugh. Quite genuine, too. "Oh, that is the truth. Feds arrested me and a couple of the hands. Locked us up in the town jail." He laughed again. "Broke outta jail like some sneak thief on the lam."

Zoe surprised herself with a small laugh. How'd he manage to cheer her up while telling her about how his home was destroyed? It was a gift, it was. "Mal Reynolds in jail. A lawbreaking criminal. That's a thing I never thought I'd live to see. And busting out of jail... How'd that all fare with you?"

He flicked her a mischievous look. "Kinda fun, truth to tell." The smile diminished slightly. "Had to get out after that. They were rounding up everyone of fighting age. Choice was join the Alliance military or get stuck in one of their detention camps." He grinned at her. "So, took the third choice and here I am."

"Well, I hope they keep you a sergeant 'cause I enlisted... on the condition it was in your platoon."

"I'll be damned. You figure you'll take my orders? No questions? No back talk?"

"Yes, sir. As long as they're not stupid. And I'll watch your back," she answered. "You need it."

"All right, then," he said. "And you don't call sergeants 'sir'. Clear?"

"Habit," she said. "Called Daddy 'sir' when he was captaining the ship. A 'sir' might slip through now and then."

"I'll try to adjust."

* * *

**_Now..._**

Mal looked down at Zoe as she finished talking. She'd rolled over away from him. She still hadn't talked on the events before he'd arrived to free her, but it was the nearest she'd ever come. Wash would understand. Hell, Mal'd toss him out an airlock if he didn't. But Mal knew that wasn't so much the part Zoe didn't want to tell Wash. It was the other... them, he and Zoe, together in the Before sharing each other's bodies, and later sharing each other's souls--so close even a husband couldn't step between.

He looked down at Zoe. She wasn't sleeping. He reached to brush a curl of hair from her cheek. Stopped. No touching.


	10. Chapter 10: Going In

**Blue Sun Job**: _Going In_  
靑日 Job: _Going In_

* * *

Chinese: _No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters_

他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck, used for all variations

_

* * *

_

**Chapter 10**

Zoe dozed off around sunrise. Mal watched her thoughtfully. He'd bet good money Wash got the same view--Zoe rolled over, facing away. She never was a cuddler.

Easing out of the bed, Mal crossed to the window, staring out at the Blue Sun treasury. Blue Sun... Blue. _Beware the blue... _He hadn't really pondered on River's ramblings before even though it was her got him thinking about pulling this job. He reached for his coat, pulling out from the pocket the little doodad River'd given him. The small disk was featureless until squeezed, then the surface flashed the Blue Sun logo in English and Chinese alternating with images of their products. A cheap bit of advertising. Not nothing. Couldn't imagine why she'd been so fixed on him having it. Mal looked from the disk to the treasury and back. Blue Sun... Mal didn't care much about the Blue Sun connection to the job--he just wanted to hit the old Alliance prison. But River'd been fixed on the 'blue' since the smuggling job on New Horizons that went bad--that had been Blue Sun property came up and bit 'em too. Not nothing... Blue Sun... Maybe not nothing. There was something... couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Shaking his head, he put the gadget back in his pocket, tossing the coat back over a chair. He glanced at Zoe. Still sleeping, or faking it to avoid him. The problem with nights of truthsomeness came in the light of the next day when you had to face the folks who now looked at you different. Hell, maybe she was right about Wash and what she ought to tell, or not tell, him. Who was he to give anyone marriage advice? His 'wife' had tried to kill him... twice.

You know... thinking on it now... had Zoe seemed a mite jealous of Saffron? Huh. Now there was a thought. Easy enough to see Wash getting jealous of the parts of Zoe Mal had that Wash didn't. Shipboard romances... always a problem. Of course, dirtside ones didn't seem to work out too good either.

_What are we now?_ Tracy's words still came to mind now and then. He looked at Zoe again. They were now what war and loss and horror and death and defeat and oppression had made them. Being aware of the causes didn't change what those things had done. Didn't change what was, and what never could be. If things had been different where and what would they be? And would it be together or apart?

Shaking his head to try to chase away that line of thought. It didn't do to dwell on what was past. The way it is is the way it is. Still, the memories had been called to the surface and wouldn't be buried back in the dark easily.

Pulling a chair to the window, Mal sat, putting his feet up on the window ledge, indulging in something he seldom did, a trek though a lost life. He'd known many sunrises on this world but had actually seen few of them. Sunrises were hard and bright, bringing on new days full of new troubles. It was sunsets that were beautiful, with shadows long and deep, bringing nights of promise and possibility. Sunsets that lasted twenty-four hours a day...

**_Years ago, on Shadow..._**

The thing with a tide-locked moon was the length of the day/night cycle. While the Shadow settlers kept as near as possible to the traditional Earth-That-Was twenty-four hour day, circadian rhythm being bred into humankinds' very flesh, the light and dark around them didn't conform to that schedule. Daylight was days long and the nights equally so. They'd heard that some of the newer of the terraformed moons were having a spin forced upon them to give them a more typical rotation. Wouldn't much matter, they figured. If you're rounding a gas giant you're still going to be in its shadow some of the time no matter which way you're spinning. And so the Shadow settlers just shrugged and treasured their twenty-four hour sunsets. Normal is whatever you're used to.

Founder's Day celebrations always included one of those long sunsets. Malcolm Reynolds rode into town with a couple of the younger hands to take in the bonfire and dancing as the sun edged its way slowly toward the horizon. As the sky darkened, the gas giant brightened, fixed in the sky just above the horizon, a huge disk of swirling red and gold.

"Hey," one of the boys called. "There's a ship down." Off on the outskirts of town a small freighter sat. Mal looked at it with interest. Space ships always drew the attention of the locals for the trade prospects, but for him the interest ran a little deeper. Like as not he'd never leave this world, and never regret it, but just sometimes he pondered on the notion of what it must be like to roam out among the stars seeing new places, meeting new, odd folk, and watching the stars slip by in the blackness.

Tying off their horses on main street, the boys headed toward the fair grounds--a dusty patch of dirt, but covered now with folks, friends and neighbors, talking, laughing, some dancing to a fiddle player's tune. Mal grinned at the sight of more than a few of his neighbors, those as would normally would never touch a drop of demon rum, tipping jugs of hard cider, getting snockered and enjoying it wholeheartedly. This was just a danged fine shiny place, it was. Most young fellas his age got the wandering itch 'bout now, but Mal had the wherewithal to know a good thing when he saw it.

And, golly, but that was a _good_ thing he was a seeing right now.

Around the fire danced a girl he didn't know--and he knew everybody on this side of the moon. Her blue dress swirled as she spun beneath a cloud of black curls. The dress she wore was different from what the local girls had on. This little number had just a hint of slink to it. Not fancy, but still downright exotic looking to this ranch boy's eyes. Mal watched, entranced as she danced. The fire sparked and flared, lighting the purtiest darned face he'd ever seen, with a smile like a star burst.

She spun again and her eyes caught his. Something sparked and it wasn't the bonfire.

Jostled by his friends, he lost track of the girl for a bit. A jug of cider passed his way and Mal'd be danged if it wasn't the preacher his own self passing it along. The good Lord saw fit to make cider turn hard it'd be downright sinful to overlook such a gift. Mal grinned and downed a slug.

Handing the jug along, he turned and came face to face with the girl from the dance.

"Hi," she said, her eyes still sparkling like a night full of stars. "My name's Zoe."

Well, she wasn't a shy, bashful thing at all now, was she? Forward. He liked that in a gal. "Malcolm Reynolds," he answered, smiling at her. "Call me Mal."

"Mal," she repeated. "Don't that mean 'bad' in Latin?" She gave him a saucy grin. He liked her already.

"Couldn't speak to that point." _Latin? Educated too. If she could shoot she'd be quite the package._ "But don't get the preacher thinkin' on it. He already thinks I'm trouble waiting to happen as it is," he said, eyeing her up and down. She looked like trouble--of the finest kind--waiting to happen too. "Care to take a stroll with me?" He stuck his elbow out. She smiled and took his arm.

Leading her away from the crowds, Mal enjoyed the feel of her arm on his. She was a tall gal, near as tall as him, and just about the prettiest creature he'd ever seen. Zoe put him in mind of an unbroke filly, wild and free. He liked that. Meek never did much appeal to him. A woman ought to stand side by side with her man. Partners. Though he'd known her only minutes, this Zoe girl struck him as just such a gal.

"Sun seems to be taking its time goin' down," she said. Clouds piled on the horizon made this sunset particularly nice. Half way across the sky the clouds drifted in front of the red and gold gas giant taking on its glow.

"We get that here," Mal said. "Sunsets last purt near a whole day."

"I like that. It's real fine. A joyful sight." She smiled at him and the sunset dimmed in comparison.

"You're from that ship, ain't you?" She nodded. "I bet you've seen some wondrous spectacles traveling the 'verse."

She laughed. Pure music. "A few. Truth to tell, most of traveling space is in the blackness. Stars get so ordinary you almost don't see 'em any more."

He grinned at her, then glanced upwards at the stars peeking through the twilight. "Don't think I'd ever get tired of lookin' into the heart of the black."

" 'Heart of the black...' That was nice. Almost poetical," she said, moving in a little closer to him..

Choosing a smooth patch of grass near a stand of trees, beyond the circle of light and sound from the town, they sat down together. The sound of the celebration wafted distantly on the breeze. They laid back on the ground side by side, each telling of their lives, homes--his the ranch, hers the ever-moving ship--then roaming on to their hopes and dreams like they were old, old friends just met. It wasn't often Mal got to converse on such matters. Everyone he knew also knew him since he was a tike. Weren't much opportunity to talk with someone new. It was pretty darned nice how at ease he felt with her right off, like he'd always known her and always would. They talked on for hours that seemed like minutes.

Zoe rolled up on her elbow, looking down at him. She lowered her lips to his and that was pretty darned shiny too. Wrapping his arms around her, Mal pulled her down onto him. She felt... well, she felt like heaven come to earth. The kiss deepened. He was a touch startled when her tongue teased at his lips. Okay... this weren't anything like the kissin' games with the neighbor girls.

She pulled back, murmuring against his lips, "I hear you farm boys have hay mows."

His eyes went wide and he stumbled for an answer. "I... uh, well... it's..." He squeezed her lean, strong body tight against his. "It's a ranch, not a farm." Her eyes widened with amusement. "But, uh, yeah. Yeah. There is, in point of fact, a hay mow."

Zoe rode behind him on the way back to the ranch, hanging on with one hand to the jug of cider he'd snagged, the other wrapped snug around his waist. He took the back way, pulling up just at the crest of a hill overlooking the shallow valley with the ranch house and buildings. "There it is."

"Beautiful," she whispered in his ear. Her tongue flicked out and licked his lobe.

"Ooh." He _really_ liked this gal.

Half way through the jug they got into a wrestling match. Zoe giggled as she pinned him in the hay. Didn't seem fittin' to fight her off.

"I got hay in my dress," Zoe said long about the time they were down to the last drops in the jug. She squirmed around on him. "Itches."

"Can't have that," Mal murmured.

Though he'd never done such a thing before, it saw surprisingly easy to figure out the lacings and fastenings on that lil' blue dress. 'Course she helped him along more than a bit. His shirt was gonna be needing a button or two sewed back on. That Zoe gal had a streak of fierce in her. As she slithered up on top of him, licking her way from chin to bellybutton, an absurd twitch of conscience sparked in Mal's almost shut-down brain.

"Ease up there, darlin'" he said, pushing up on her shoulders. "Best stop afore things get out of hand here."

"What?"

"Well... you know, um... we're not married. Don't want to go doing nothing, you know... sinful."

She laughed lightly. "You got some funny notions. Quaint. How can this be sinful? Let yourself go. How hard can it be?" She rubbed herself tight against him. "I guess I know the answer to that."

Hell, he thought... uh, _heck_... The Almighty saw fit to send such a treasure down outta the pure black sky, be more sinful to push it away. The twitch of conscious was well and thoroughly gone.

**_Now..._**

Mal stared at the hard, bright sky of a world he hated while recollecting the dark, dreamy sky of a world he loved. A world gone. A life and lifetime gone. A person so disconnected from what he was now it was like calling someone else's life to mind. He shook his head. The recollections of that first time with Zoe, sweet though they were, brought no peace. It had all gone to hell by and by and maybe she was right that a mentioning of it at all to Wash would only bring more heartache to one and all. Weren't like there was anyone else left alive to spill the tale. Not a living soul. Only ashes and dust.

Shaking himself, Mal stood, glancing down at Zoe. Heading into the bathroom, he turned on the shower--also big enough for two, smutty damned place this was. Though a cold shower might have been more appropriate, Mal perversely decided to try to run this Alliance-world, Blue Sun-owned gorram place out of hot water. They ultimately defeated him. Again.

The day passed in taut silence. Partly it was the recollections of past times, and the closeness of the night reflecting itself in the distance of the day, but not too much. They'd been through too much for such uncomfortables to stick too long. Mostly it was the tension of waiting for battle to be engaged. The waiting, knowing what was coming, was always harder to endure than the fight itself. Zoe spent a good part of the day staring at the treasury with a cold, distant expression. Wash may have brought back a bit of that bright, giggling girl he'd known in ages past, but the life she'd had in between then and now had permanently left its mark with a core of hatred for _them_ in her that rivaled his own.

"Getting near sunset," Zoe said quietly. Shadows angled low among the buildings.

Mal stepped up to the window beside her. The gas giant was sliver low on the horizon. "Passing into the shadow just about midnight. Full dark on both sides of this moon. Doubly dark." He took a deep breath and released it slowly.

"Just focus," Zoe said. "Focus on the mission."

He flicked her a wry look. "I'm supposed to say that."

"You ready?" Zoe asked, studying him carefully.

"Always," he answered.

Jayne waited in his next assigned location, a cafe. Two women sat with him. Mal and Zoe exchanged a glance. This time he noticed them passing by, giving the barest of acknowledgements.

"Don't know how we're gonna drag him off this rock," Zoe commented. "Especially once he gets the loot in hand."

"Might be worth the trade-off," Mal said, low. "If it weren't that he'd rat us out for the first reward posted, I'd be willing to cut him loose here."

Zoe studied him a long moment. Gears turning. He saw a spark flash in her eyes, different than the one he'd been thinking on from years past. This spark had a deadly flash. "Ariel," she said, shaking her head. "You were so fixed on covering the tracks he left at Ariel. He turned in..." she paused, not saying the names out loud on this Fed-filled, sensor-ridden world, "...for the reward. That's why they were around the back." She sighed angrily. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. "I'd'a spaced him."

Mal chuckled. "I damned near did."

"Why the hell didn't you?"

Shaking his head, Mal said, "Cause he kinda seemed to get it. You know... loyalty. Trusting that the man at your back is covering it, not about to put a knife in it. And that it extends to everyone in the crew, like 'em or not." Mal shrugged. "He done good in that action at Niska's skyplex."

"Feeling all guilty," Zoe said, clearly still adding up the pieces. "That bastard."

"He's a work in progress," Mal said, tossing her a dry smile. "Might work out. Might need to be put down. Remains to be seen. Meantime, don't trust him."

"Never did."

They slipped off into the dark from the main boulevard. Their route to the warehouse differed from the night before, a longer, more complex path. Approaching from the opposite direction, not passing the Blue Sun treasury this time, they passed Monty's Fed nephew. He had the patrols diverted away from where they needed to work.

Monty waited for them inside, tonight flanked by two of his crew. Three others waited nearby with the crates and containers that would be used to transport the stolen platinum--assuming they managed to get it. Monty handed each of them small pistols, with silencers.

"Kaylee?" Mal asked in a whisper, tucking the gun in his waistband, as they approached the false wall.

"She's good," Monty said. "Two of mine are with her. No problems."

"Well, then," Mal said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do it."

"How will you know they ain't found that tunnel?" Monty asked as Mal bent to open the hatchway.

"We'll know," Zoe said shortly as she dropped her skirt and cloak as Mal the hatchway. Standing in the small space, he reached down to give her a hand up as she wriggled in behind him.

They again made their way along the narrow tunnel, carefully crafted among the piping and conduits. Reaching the perimeter of the old prison grounds, Zoe pulled out the not-quite-a-Cortex link and patched into the junction box. Mal stayed still while she worked, staring ahead down the corridor.

"That should do it," Zoe whispered. There was an audible sigh in the air as the electronic barriers fell away. "Li'lo was a magician." They both fell silent for a moment, exchanging a deep look. Private W. W. Li'lo hadn't made it out. One of the execution games that had turned real--they'd caught him messing with the computer systems. But this back-door subroutine laid into the security system had already been in place.

A few yards in, they paused, looking at their assurance the tunnel had stayed unknown. Half buried, off to the side, the tattered remains of an Alliance guard uniform covered bones. Another dark look passed between Mal and Zoe. Had they anything to toast with, they'd have raised their glasses. This was the one that had caught the young private. Zoe spat on the remains on the way by.

It took about fifteen minutes to reach the access to the ventilation conduit that--if everything they'd researched held true--led straight into the lowest level of the prison, once the dark isolation cells, now the Blue Sun vault.

Opening a panel in the side of the vent, Zoe began working at the last set of security system interfaces they'd need to shut down the alarms inside the vault. This junction box was one they'd added; wouldn't show up on any of Blue Sun's plans.

A click or anything audible, or visible, would have been a comfort to let them know it worked. But there was nothing. Zoe peered through the vent screen, at her read out, then back at the vent screen.

"It all reads down," she whispered.

Zoe pulled the vent screen inward--another of their modifications put in place years earlier and was about to drop through to the floor when a danger alert hit Mal hard. He put his hand on her arm to stop her.

"Wait," he murmured.

"What is it?" She stared out into the vault searchingly.

"A hunch." He wasn't seeing anything amiss either, just had a feeling... He climbed half up over her, feeling at her waist for the tool kit. Pulling out a small spray can he handed it forward to Zoe.

Carefully keeping her hands within the vent shaft, Zoe sprayed the mist outward and down, a faint whimper escaping as beams of light appeared lacing across the room. They weren't fixed. The pattern kept shifting. No stepping over and around the beams.

"They added another layer," she said, pulling back. "We're humped."

Mal scowled, concentrating. "Maybe not. Our code still works. Just need to get it to take down those beams, too. Try it."

Zoe turned back to the screen, working at it for several minutes. "It's a power problem," she whispered, sounding frustrated. "Li'lo installed this based on us just tickling in the right amount of juice into the system but not enough to trip any computer intrusion alarms. I've got no more to push into it. I need just a touch more power, but not too much. Tap off the electrical and we'll overload it, trip the alarms."

"Power? You mean like a battery? What about our flashlights?"

"Too much. Just need a tiny, tiny bit... ah!"

He stopped, pondering. Mal could see the shining stacks of platinum just out of reach just begging to be stoled. Greed begging to happen. _Greedy to look in the closet. But this will make the greedy all shiny. All the presents shiny._ River. Gorram girl had the notion way the hell in advance.

Fumbling in the confined space, Mal dug out River's little Blue Sun ad doodad out of his pocket, cracking the plastic case open against the vent wall. He pulled out the tiny battery, handing it to Zoe on his fingertip. "Try this."

She gave him a long, hard look, but took the battery and carefully attached it. Nothing. Nothing they could see or hear. Spraying the mist outward again, the vault showed nothing but nothing.

Zoe grinned broadly. "Shiny."

"All the presents shiny," Mal said, grinning too.

"We're minus on minutes," Zoe said, dropping down to the vault floor. She froze a moment. No alarms. No guards. No toxic gas or burning lasers. All good things not to have. "Fifteen left before the patrol comes around."

Mal dropped down behind her, pulling out sacks. Moving along the rows of shelves, each carefully took one platinum coin from each rack of one hundred, skipping the front racks in favor of the back. If all went smooth, it would be a long time before anyone even realized anything was missing. Rapidly filling sack after sack, they shoved them into vent.

"Time," Zoe called. Mal resisted the one-more urge, shoving his last, half-filled sack into the vent. Climbing back up, he slid back down the tunnel to make room for Zoe.

Reversing her actions, she removed the tiny battery, handing it back to Mal. She sprayed the mist outward. The beams were back on. Gently she swung the vent door closed. It swung back inward. She tried again. 他妈的 "Latch broke," she whispered. Snatching up a piece of the broken plastic casing from River's gadget, Mal reached over Zoe, wedging it between the vent grill and frame. It held the vent closed. A quick sigh and glance between them before Zoe returned to the junction box, restoring the security alarms and backing out of the system.

It took longer to get back down the tunnel and out, with the sacks of platinum. They crossed the perimeter of the old prison wall, hearing the electronic sigh of the security barrier being restored.

Monty appeared nervous--a rare thing--as Mal peered out the hatchway in the false wall.

"Everything okay?" Mal asked.

"Yup. Slick as spit. Just fretting over you two."

Mal climbed out, taking sack after sack that Zoe handed to him. Monty's eyes went wide.

"他妈的," Monty said. "Until this very moment I didn't really think you could pull it off."

"We're not out of the woods yet," Mal said as Zoe climbed out of the hatchway, closing and latching it behind her.

"True enough," Monty said, "But, dang, the path out is lookin' good and clear."

Mal and Zoe appeared again like a respectable middle-class couple stepping out for the evening as they strolled down the boulevard. Probably no one would think to question why they carried a fancy leather briefcase with them, nor notice when they set it down for a moment near a large man in a suit sitting at a sidewalk café with two--or was it three now?--women at his table. When they walked off without the briefcase, no one even gave them a second glance.

"Smooth," Mal said, consciously tempting the fates.

Suddenly both he and Zoe slid back into the shadows, peaking warily around the corner.

"You leave anything you can't bear to part with at that hotel?" Mal asked, studying the swarm of Fed cops in front of the place--more than a couple looking far too familiar for comfort.

"Nothing I can't live without," Zoe said, eyeing the sight.

"Then what say we see if those black out zones are still there," Mal said. They just had to get through one more night on this world without being arrested, take the public transport back to Delta, and make it back to _Serenity._ Nooooo problem.


	11. Chapter 11: Home Again

**Blue Sun Job: **_Home Again..._  
靑日 Job: _Home Again..._

**

* * *

Chapter 11 **

**_Kaylee..._**

Monty's crewmen--a man and woman--came to alert. Kaylee looked over. They were nice enough, she supposed, but kinda on the grim and serious side. Ex-soldiers, like the captain and Zoe, but without their light, good humor.

Quickly ripping open the delivered crate, the two grinned. Kaylee did too. Sure enough looked like the job had gone smooth. Hidden beneath the metal blanks was a thick, thick layer of platinum coins.

"Let's get to it," Kaylee said, suddenly not regretting her part in the job had stuck her in a grimy old foundry rather than a fancy Core shopping mall. Kaylee stroked the molds she had. Be more than a little fun to cast engine parts out of pure platinum. She grinned up at Monty's crewmen and started to help divvy up the loot.

**_Jayne..._**

This was, without a doubt, the _best_ gorram plan the captain ever had. The captain... his pal, his friend. The man was like a gorram brother! Jayne sniffled a mite as he stroked the rows of shiny coins laid out in the briefcase. The case had been so rutting heavy he'd almost had a hard time lifting it. It was enough to make a man forget all about the swarms of willing women on this world what seemed to find him, his pretty togs, the gallons of fine liquor he'd bought, and his pocket money, so appealing.

And the good kept getting gooder. Gorram rutting genius, Mal was, to have Jayne launder the coin at a casino. He was a damn good gambler. Might just increase the take... well, his cut, at least.

**_Shepherd Book..._**

It felt odd praying for the success of a robbery. Book consoled himself he wasn't really praying for the theft to succeed, but for the participants to return safely home. Lord... Maybe he didn't belong here after all. Had he converted even one of them to the Word? Or drew them back to it, as the case may be? Or had they lured him away from the path? Or, just maybe, the path was more complex than he'd once believed it to be. Perhaps how you got there truly was the worthier part.

Flipping Bible pages, seeking words of advice and comfort, the Shepherd knew that, at least for now, he couldn't leave these people, not abandon nor betray them.

**_Wash..._**

_They also serve who stand and wait..._ Isn't that what they used to say? Wash believed it. The waiting was probably worse than going in to the danger. Especially when it was his wife going in. So very dangerous, this job... Mal was with her and they always came back. Always. So far, at least. It still nagged at him, just a touch, that they were spending three days--and nights--alone together. He should never have looked up the ad brochures for that hotel. Oh... hell, Inara had picked the place, not the captain. Mal'd probably be happier if they spent their time squatting in some bombed-out ruins. Just old army buddies, cool and distant toward each other except when the shooting started. 'Cept when they told tales about sharing bunks. 'Cept when he saw a look pass between them that Wash couldn't quite read. 'Cept when another story Zoe hadn't seen fit to mention before happened to come out. Lot of history they were walking back into here. Lot of history... Lot of... But they had _never_... Never.

Wash rechecked the news services. Still nothing on any robbery. It was nearing sunrise there on Beta. Job should have been done--the going into the treasury part, at least--a couple hours ago. No alerts. No warrants. Nothing. Unless the Feds were suppressing the news to lure the robbers into a false sense of security until they'd caught them all.

Maybe they should have a baby. Maybe that would get Zoe out of this dangerous line of work. No it wouldn't. Not as long as Mal was in. Where her captain went Wash knew gorram well nothing would keep Zoe from following. She might choose Wash's life over Mal's, but she'd choose Mal's life over her safety or her husband's peace of mind every single time. Or--and he hated himself for thinking it even as he did--had Zoe's choosing him over Mal at Niska's skyplex been a military decision? One of those cold, heartless calls he'd seen her make before? A tactic rather than a statement of love and devotion?

Old army buddies... saved her in the war. Sure. Wash didn't doubt it. The captain was resolutely loyal to those in his command. Sure he had saved Zoe. Why wouldn't he? But suddenly Wash realized that's about all he knew about it. He didn't know the details. How, exactly, had it come about and what was it that made Zoe so life-long devoted to the captain? Mal'd saved a lot of people in the war. Not all of them followed him to hell and beyond every single day since. In point of fact, only one of them had. Zoe. What exactly had happened between the captain and Wash's wife that sometimes made Wash feel like an excluded outsider in his own marriage?

Checking again for news of robberies or arrests, Wash settled back for another long day of waiting and worrying.

**_Inara..._**

Inara didn't need to think about her job to perform it to the client's satisfaction. While going through the motions convincingly, she thought about the _Serenity_ crew and their captain's insanity. She'd tried to talk him into 'working' in the Core worlds before--or at least worlds with a civilized Companion client base. This, though, was certainly taking it to the extreme. What next? Rob the king's palace on Londinium?

Mal would be displeased with the clients she'd chosen here on Alpha, not that he'd be pleased with any client she chose. Her clients here, however, had been particularly selected from among Alliance officials who could keep her informed of certain events--if things on Mal's job went wrong, and wasn't it nearly a certain bet they would?--or provide her the influence to aid any of _Serenity's_ crew as might get caught. The very thought chilled her. She wasn't sure there was enough influence in the 'verse to spring Mal and Zoe if they got caught in the Blue Sun treasury, especially not with their history on that world.

She'd managed to get a peek at their records on Beta and creative dossiers they were indeed. There were still local warrants valid for both of them on suspicion of a payroll robbery--a robbery Inara knew perfectly well they'd done--as well as warrants for a plethora of trivial crimes like failing to check in as ordered, skipping out on fines for convictions Inara could see perfectly well were for crimes that had been contrived to harass the former Browncoat soldiers.

She'd gotten a look at the life ex-Independents like Mal and Zoe lived under Alliance rule in the year-plus she'd traveled with them, but to see the hard black and white evidence of a calculated program of persecution had shocked her. They were low ranked soldiers who'd been through hell doing their duty, not officers or officials. Yet they were clearly harassed by the Alliance authorities in a planned manner. Within little more than a week after being released from the Alliance military prison on Beta, Mal had been arrested four times on charges that were plainly aimed at baiting the ex-soldier into a precipitous action. Well, he'd taken that action, but--thus far--had survived the fall from the precipice.

Speaking of 'fall'... Inara squeezed and moaned in just the right measure, at just the right time, then smiled like a besotted lover who'd just known her finest moment at the fool atop her.

She was still leaving him... _them_. She had to. But first she'd wait and watch to see if they landed safely at the cliff's bottom one more time.

**_Simon..._**

More adventures in sitting... Simon sighed. At least it was a wondrous place to sit. Designed for it actually. The Shepherd's Sanctuary was a pleasant vacation spot--peace and quiet, soft sunshine, gentle breezes, rolling green hillsides and lush forests. The only sounds were the wind rustling the leaves in the trees and the chiming of the bells on the chapel calling the Brothers to prayer. Tranquil...

He was soooo bored. Simon never dreamed he could miss the somewhat-dirty, rough, disreputable ship he and River had been calling 'home.' And he missed the people. It surprised him to realize that. Strangest of all, Simon realized he missed the captain. The man was cold, heartless, dangerous, sometimes murderous, and possibly criminally insane, or given the nature of the current crime, just insane. He didn't much like Simon, certainly didn't seem to respect him, and he usually treated River like she was an almost invisible object, talking to her in the third person to Simon rather than addressing her directly. And yet he gave Simon a strength... he kept them on, kept them safe... and came back for them when no one else would have.

Simon scanned the crisp, blue sky. Would _Serenity_ come back this time? With all hands aboard and intact? Until that ragged little ship actually set down here, Simon wouldn't know.

Looking down from the sky, Simon watched River, sighing. For a few days she'd been fine, better than fine. Vastly improved. She'd even done a happy little song and dance a few hours ago, some odd bit about Christmas and presents. He smiled wistfully. The joy had vanished from her, though, and even with the best combination of drugs he could give her, she'd been shaking and weeping, terrified of something, something Simon couldn't see. She huddled in on herself, now, a blank expression on her face as she chanted, over and over, "two by two, hands of blue..."

Simon wished he knew what that meant. If it meant anything at all.

**_Mal and Zoe..._**

Creeping through the night amidst the ruins, Mal and Zoe glanced over at each other. Mal gave her a hand signal, instructing her to go around the other way. Moving cautiously, they arrived on the opposite side of the structure at the same time, guns drawn down on each other.

"Clear," Zoe whispered, turning around to scan the adjacent area. Mal turned away and did the same.

"Looks to be as good a place as any," he said, leaning back against the partial wall.

"So, 'plan B', tomorrow," Zoe said, settling down on the ground beside him.

"Yup," Mal said, sinking down with a sighing groan. He was starting to get tired. Must be getting old. Used to be they could run three, even four, days without sleep if they had to. Now it was just half way through the second night and he was a mite weary. 'Course, dodging the cops on Beta wasn't quite as stimulating as having a full-on Alliance military assault coming straight at you.

He yawned. "Someone at that gorram hotel must have spotted us. Be funny to get arrested for that old guard payroll job and get away with this one clean."

Zoe scowled at him, giving him her finest 'you crazy bastard' look. "Yeah. Real funny." She shook her head.

Mal had palmed his ident card off on a fellow heading into a tube station, then they'd stood back to see what happened. When the poor dupe stuck the card in the slot alarms whooped and barricades dropped into place. Mal and Zoe faded back and away before the cops arrived.

At a different tube station their 'plan B' cards had been accepted without incident, depositing them near their old territory of years past. The black out zone boundaries had changed somewhat, but that hadn't proved an impediment. It was an odd comfort to be sneaking about among ruins, rather than walking openly among a world full of Feds.

"Well," Mal said, "no point fretting on tomorrow until we're there."

Zoe stood. "I'll take first watch," she said tersely. Soldier Zoe. Couldn't ask for better comfort than that, Mal thought as he nodded at her, making her statement an order. Gun in hand, Mal stretched out and dozed off.

* * *

Stripped of anything that could trip the detectors at the shuttle port, Mal and Zoe remained artificially calm as the port guards slid their cards into the slots. Just a little sigh of relief as they passed through unchallenged. They had checked the public news for word on the robbery, or word on the search for them, finding nothing about the Blue Sun treasury, and only a small paragraph saying a couple was being sought for questioning on the other. It didn't sound like anyone had made a positive I.D. on them at the hotel, or there'd be pictures and names posted. Like as not, someone had a glimpse and a hunch and was playing it out. Well enough, then. 

The shuttle lifted and Mal could feel Zoe's tension as thick as honey beside him. He didn't bother to chide her this time, now that he knew why she had an issue with this particular type of transport. Then he saw her fix abruptly on one of the other passengers, as quickly looking away like she'd never seen him. Wouldn't have been nothing to anyone else, but Mal picked it up right away.

Casually stretching his arm along the seat back, Mal pulled her in close. Cuddlesome. Leaning in, he whispered, "What?"

Like a fond lover, she nuzzled him, whispering, "Familiar face. Maybe. From that bar where we met Monty."

The bar where they met Monty... This fella could be Fed or Underground. Or nothing. Mal shuffled that off into the unlikely category. Zoe seldom made a mistake on worrisome matters.

Landing in the smog of Delta, they passed through the port without incident. Zoe scanned about, then murmured, "Don't see him. Don't think we're being followed either."

"Let's take the long way home, anyhow," Mal said, leading off into the crowded port streets.

If they were being followed, neither of them could spot it. "Just paranoid," Zoe said dismissively as they turned onto the row where _Serenity_ was parked. "It's all just been going so smooth. Haven't even had to shoot anyone. A little frustrating." Mal grinned at her.

"Another minute we'll be home and clear and, hopefully, a helluva lot wealthier." He chuckled. "The first time I don't figure on it going smooth, it does. Have to be a new policy, I guess."

They passed a larger ship and _Serenity's_ berth came into view. Both exchanged a quick smile at the sight of the ship--of home.

The smiles faded as they approached. The ramp was down. Mal had ordered Wash to keep the ship buttoned up. Waving Zoe back, Mal started up the ramp cautiously. The airlock doors were part way open. Half way up the ramp he froze at what he saw. Turning to warn off Zoe, he saw her staring backwards. Mal heard the sound, closing his eyes for a split of almost-but-not-quite prayer. The distinctive clatter. Half a dozen. More.

Mal swallowed hard as the Alliance MPs flooded out of _Serenity's_ airlock seizing his arms. Hauling him into the cargo bay, they immediately cuffed him and forced him to his knees. A gun barrel dug into his neck. Zoe was dropped down near by.

There weren't cuss words strong enough in any language in the 'verse to describe the moment. Mal saw the three others lined up in the cargo bay. Kaylee, Wash, and Shepherd Book all kneeled with the hands on their heads. Two MPs covered each of them. Kaylee looked terrified, yet as she looked at Mal, he could see she was worried too--worried for him. That unnerved Mal a touch. Shepherd Book appeared frighteningly angry, not at all preacher-like. And Wash... his eyes were fixed on Zoe and Mal could see right into the man's soul at that moment. Mal couldn't see Zoe--they wouldn't let him turn his head that way--but he knew without looking the expression she wore.

Jayne was missing. Jayne who should have been back before them. Jayne who had also been at the same bar as the fellow Zoe'd spotted on the shuttle. Jayne who had a boatload of cash in hand and just maybe a score he wanted to settle with Mal.

The officer--a major--and his adjutant approached Mal. One of the guards grabbed his hair, pulling his head back. The adjutant flashed a retinal scanner in Mal's eye. Plugging the scanner into his Cortex unit, he tilted it toward the major.

"It's him," the officer said sharply, gesturing to the guards.

Hauled up to his feet, Mal was dragged off and out of _Serenity_.


	12. Chapter 12: Waiting

**Blue Sun Job:** _Waiting_  
靑日 Job: _Waiting_

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Chinese: _only to cover the strongest cuss words!_  
他妈的 - ta ma duh, f-ck **

* * *

Chapter 12 **

_It's him._

What had the Fed meant by that?

Mal tried to dig in his heels and hold back as the squad of MPs escorting him reached their shuttle. "What's going on?" he demanded, straining to sound like an aggrieved, honest citizen. "Am I under arrest?"

His questions were ignored and his resistance was less than futile. The guards who had hold of him barely missed a step as they pulled him into the shuttle. Unlike the public transport, this shuttle was windowless. The door hissed closed. Seated between two guards whose grip on his arms never slacked, Mal couldn't help but fret about his crew, and himself. Separating prisoners was a common tactic. Mal knew he'd have no more contact with, or info about, any of the others until and unless the Feds had a purpose in providing it, and then he couldn't trust anything they said. Still, why only him on this shuttle with six sumbitch MPs surrounding him? He wasn't that damned dangerous. Even if this job had launched them into the really-not-petty criminal realm, it still seemed more than a mite excessive to use a whole shuttle and this many guards just for him.

_It's him..._ What the rutting hell had that officer meant by that? Were they after the ringleader of the Blue Sun robbery? Or were they after Malcolm Reynolds hisownself?

The guards never said a word the entire flight, not to Mal nor to each other. Nor did a one ever look directly at him—no eye contact. It was calculated, he realized, designed to make him uneasy, make him worry... make him talk to fill the nervous silence. He kept his mouth shut, but the 'uneasy' and 'worry' were well and thoroughly along for the ride.

He replayed events in his head, hunting for the moment he'd made the critical mistake. They'd been followed. That much was certain. Somehow, some way, though they hadn't spotted a tail. Or some kind of surveillance. The lack of any kind of search, even a quick frisking, when the Feds snagged him told Mal that.Bastrads knew he was unarmed when he walked aboard _Serenity_. Not that he didn't still have several items of potential mischief on him, but nothing he could make use of while so completely restrained and guarded.

There was a shift as gravitational fields adjusted and Mal knew they'd landed. Clamping down hard on control, he readied himself to deal with whatever was next. He wouldn't surrender an inch of ground they didn't have to fight to take. Gorramit, though… he was scared.

The shuttle door opened with a sigh of adjusting air pressures and Mal got another surprise. They were attached to an airlock. He'd expected the next sight he saw would be the police station and jail on Beta, but it wasn't. They'd docked to a ship. As he was led aboard, Mal could tell it was an Alliance military cruiser, though he had no way of knowing which one. What the hell...? Why'd the military have him and not the civil authorities? How deep did the Fed connections to Blue Sun run?

He had to stop thinking about Blue Sun. And the job. And anything connected to it. Ram all that down deep. Any play had to come from the Feds. There was no job. No robbery. He was an honest—well, slightly shady—businessman with legitimate business on these worlds. They had no reason to be arresting him. They'd obviously made a serious mistake.

The reception area for prisoners gave 'intimidating' a whole new meaning. It put Mal in mind of the systems of chutes and corrals that herded stock in for branding... or slaughter. Throughout, he was treated with impersonal distance, not a word spoken. An object, not a person. Never once through the whole search and I.D. ritual did they give him even the slightest opening to make a stupid move. And it would be patently stupid. Even if he took out every MP within reach, he could plainly see remote weapons mounted up out of reach tracking him every instant Then there'd be the impossible matter of getting off an Alliance cruiser.

They more than made up for the lack of a search earlier, leaving him only with stocking feet, shirt and trousers. I.D. scans of every sort—DNA, fingerprints, retinal scans, photos... he wasn't sure why they bothered. They already had all that. One flash of the gorram retinal scanner back on _Serenity_ certainly called up everything they had on him from service records to any scrapes with the law since that had made their way back to the central databases.

When all was done, they cuffed him again, and deposited him in a waiting room. Or Mal supposed that's what it was. Wasn't a typical cell, to be sure. The room was purely, and by obvious intent, meant to be unsettling. And it was. A metal grate covered the floor, uncomfortable to stand on in his stocking feet, wouldn't be no better to sit or lay down on. Bare, dark metal walls with an unnerving assortment rings and brackets mounted at various heights on it. Mal didn't even want to speculate on what they meant to do with all that. The lighting high up and harsh, behind another metal grill.

Mal turned around slowly, taking it all in. Yup, downright unsettling. No consolation that it all was meant to be and he knew it, and knew why. The knowing why was the truly unsettling part. He flexed his hands behind him, trying to find a less wretched position but there was none. They'd twisted his hands around, clamping them in place with a chain so short his wrists were practically touching. And, of course, the sumbitches just had to lock the cuffs down a notch too tight so the metal bands dug in and tried to cut off his circulation. Mal sighed and relaxed to the position as best he could. It was every bit as uncomfortable as he remembered. And he really hated the Feds.

Leaning against a corner, he slid down to the floor. All calculated... Feds always did the math on how to get what they wanted and ran the equations out to the bitter end. These were just the prelims—one plus one. Put him off balance. Isolate him. No info, no human contact, not even baiting from the guards. Wear him out physically and mentally. Niska was a rank amateur. These were the pros. Like as not they'd never inflict any actual pain-inducing torture. Pain gave the subject a focal point for resistance, or made 'em desperate to tell anything, true or not, just to make it stop. You might break 'em but you couldn't trust what was told. Wearing the subject down was far more effective for extracting information and confessions if you had the time, and they did. All the time in the 'verse. Exhaustion, confusion, isolation, discomfort...

The lights went out. Sure. Expected that. Silence and absolute darkness. Sensory deprivation. Like a grave. He closed his eyes and steadied himself. No comfort knowing he'd given them a running start on the project, having had little to no sleep for the last two nights, just light naps while Zoe stood watch. Not likely they'd let him sleep now, either. And where was Zoe? In another room like this one? What about poor lil' Kaylee? He never should have gotten her into this business in the first place. Anything happened to her, it would be his fault...

Gorram it! He was doing just exactly what they wanted him to do—wearing himself out with adrenalin, tension, and fretting before they even started. He had to throttle back. Focus. Just focus. Focus on something safe. Something comfortable. Something pleasant. Well... finding something to think on that fit all those criteria should keep him occupied for quite some time. Weren't many such events in his life. While he waited. It still was just a waiting room, when all was said and done. So who or what the hell were they waiting for?

Focus...

_The best of times... Zoe... hair in coils of black bouncing on her shoulders. No more dresses on that gal. Tight shirt. Trousers. Gun belt strapped 'round nicely rounded hips. Mal grinned at her as they galloped across the prairie. Danged if he hadn't been right. She could shoot. Good as him. Helluva... heckuva lady. Shiny. _

_Rolling around on the grass while the horses grazed... Red and gold of the gas giant lighting the night like a dreamland. Just as good being on top. _

"_That was your first time, last time, wasn't it?" she whispered in his ear as he collapsed on her. _

" '_Course not," he panted. _

_Her chuckle was pure poetry. "Don't take up poker, sweetie." _

"_Poke her?" He purposely misunderstood. "Sure," he said grinning down at her. _

_She laughed and they wrestled, rolling over and over until she ended up on top again. _

Mal shifted positions. Still waiting. Maybe not the best thing to recollect.

Just focus...

_The worst of times... Waking in an Alliance field hospital. Excruciating pain. Shattering him with every breath. Young gorram lieutenant had led them straight into an ambush. No choice but to follow. Obey. Try to save the dumb kid. Fall back, Zoe. Pull the others back. Flashes of red and fire. Lieutenant's head... All gone. Writhing on the ground. Bleeding and gasping. Trying to raise his rifle. Arrogant Alliance_ 他妈的 _putting another round into him. Point blank. Pure spite. Going dark..._

_Fed doctor tying his hands off to the sides so he couldn't pull the IVs out, maybe kill himself. Sure as hell couldn't get up and get away. Doctor arguing, but not too hard, to give him a shot for the pain. Not allowed. Questioned all damned day. Not allowed to sleep, or even pass out. _

_Night. Misery. Guard at the end of the bed. Staring at him coldly. Then salvation appeared. A knife sliding across the guard's throat. Funniest thing Mal'd ever seen. Guard slipping down, looking startled, leaving Zoe standing there. _

Mal gave a small chuckle. Could write a book on why he hated the Alliance. A long one. Wouldn't be allowed to publish it, though. Not in the spirit of Unification.

Just focus on the hate...

_The season of light giving way to the unending season of darkness... Zoe gave him an old book she'd run across on some world half a galaxy away. The book went up with the house when he snuck back to set the torch to it. Never got time to read the whole thing, but that beginning part said a lot. Them folks fought too. Just like the militia on Shadow when the first Alliance troop transport touched down and started telling 'em what's what. They weren't gonna hold to no one else's notions of how they ought to live and how they ought to think. _

_Killed his first man the day the fairgrounds got stained with red. Never twitched. Never regretted it. Could still see the face though. Lost count some time after that. Couldn't remember exactly when it was he lost count of how many he'd killed. Weren't like he was the sort to make notches in his pistol grip, nor brag on the score. But it was a mite troubling that he couldn't remember exactly the moment he lost count. After Shadow. Somewhere in the first battle? Or the second? They blurred. Never had wanted to kill anyone. Just doin' what needed doin'. Doin' what was right. Doin' what had to be done. _

_They hadn't started it. _

Mal knew he'd dozed off for the lights came on and the door opened immediately. The guards hoisted him to his feet and Mal found out what the brackets on the wall were for. With the chain of the cuffs attached to a bracket on the wall, the guards left, the lights going out again. Okay… They'd upped the ante. No sitting. No sleeping. They were pros at this game, but—sad to say—so was he. Still waiting.

_Live like real people… A small crew. Them as feel the need to be free… Ain't never have to be under the heel of nobody ever again…_

Ever again.

…_we'll just get ourselves a little further… _

Walked right back into the arms of the Alliance, he had. Took Zoe and the others down with him. No, Zoe came along willingly. Always did. Odd having her hitch herself to that pilot. She didn't even like him at first. Never would have thought he was the sort Zoe'd latch on to. Sure'd been good for her, though. Made her happy like he never had. Those distant days of fun and freedom weren't nothing but far away dark shadows. Lost worlds. Lost lives.

_She'd come back 'home'--such as it was--to the little dive on Delta, drunk as a skunk and cussing like… well, like a soldier. _

"_I'm gonna nuke it. Nuke it from_ 他妈的_ orbit." She swore in a vivid blend of languages, heavy on the rending-limb-from-limb imagery._

_Mal struggled upright, shaking the sleepiness off. He lowered his pistol--raised and aimed before he was even really awake--but kept a wary watch on the carbine Zoe waved recklessly around. _

"_Welcome back," he said carefully, eyeing the barrel of the carbine as it strayed his way. "Let's just be putting that weapon down now, private." _

"_Ain't no private," she said, rummaging through a box on the floor. "Not no more. And you ain't a sergeant. Don't gotta follow your orders ever again." _

"_True enough," he said, easing back the blanket. "Not that you ever were too strict on that point." _

_Zoe kicked the box. "Don't you got nothing to drink in this dump?" _

"_Think you've had enough," Mal said, the voice of reason, bringing his feet to the floor. The carbine swung around landing dead on him. "Zoe…" _

"_You just stay there," she said, coming over to the bed. She tossed the carbine aside. Mal winced, expecting it would discharge when it hit the floor, but it didn't. Next thing he knew Zoe was on him, pushing him back down, nuzzling at his neck in a very disturbing manner. _

"_What the hell are you doin'?" he demanded, trying to shove her off. Damn, __but she was strong, and he wasn't up to one hundred percent yet. _

"_I took care of you, now you're gonna take care of me," she said, breathing alcohol fumes in his ear. _

"_I don't know what the hell got into you, woman, but it ain't gonna be me," he said. _

"_Shutup. Ain't like we ain't done this before. Don't mean nothing." _

_Mal scowled. "Which is the exact point of the matter." He jumped, such as he could with a strong, determined, drunk warrior woman plastered down on top of him. "Hey! Watch your hands. I ain't gonna service you like some gorram bull put to pasture with a heifer in heat." _

_Fiercely, she said, "I ain't no heifer." _

"_Well, it didn't seem particular wise to call you a cow," Mal said, shoving at her dead weight. She'd passed out cold._

Hmmph. Neither he nor Zoe ever mentioned that little interlude. Mal wasn't sure she remembered it, drunk as she'd been. He also didn't know what had happened while she was gone to get her in such a state and she never would tell him. He didn't press the matter. Both had things they just didn't care to talk on, not with nobody.

Mal stretched as best as he could against the tight restraints, which wasn't much. Definitely a distracting recollection, that one. Another for the Wash-don't-need-to-know-it list. Didn't mean nothing. Did anything? Ever?

The door hissed open. Mal looked at the guards with cold contempt. Upping the ante again? Or the wait over?

They unfastened him from the wall, leading him out.

Waiting over.


	13. Chapter 13: Bushwhacked Revisited

**Blue Sun Job:** _Bushwhacked Revisited_  
靑日 Job: _Bushwhacked Revisited_

**

* * *

**

Note: Commander Harken is the name of the commander of the Alliance Cruiser in "Bushwhacked"--his name is in the script. I don't believe it was ever mentioned in the episode.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 13**

The waiting ended but the surprises just kept coming.

Mal generally didn't care for surprises and as the door to the interrogation room slid aside, he had no cause to change that opinion.

"Commander Harken." The guards led him toward the chair at the far end of the long table opposite the Alliance officer.

"Sergeant Reynolds," Harken acknowledged, barely glancing at him. Two armed MPs flanked Harken, with even more MPs swarming around Mal's end of the table. Helluva lot of Feds. One sat at the console of some sort of gadget. The guards jerked him around so he couldn't get a clear look it whateverthehell it was.

"Brass finally figure out you didn't belong out on the border?" Mal asked Harken. Might could be smart-ass-ness weren't the best approach, but what the hell. Something about Harken brought out the smart ass in him. Not like to be any genuinely good approach no how.

Harken gave him a faint twitch of a smile. "Actually, sergeant, I was called back to the Core specifically on account of you."

See how it was with surprises? Nothing good ever came of them. Before he could even conjure up a decent speculation on the whyness of what Harken said, the guards dragged Mal toward the chair. He wasn't resisting them. It was just in the nature of the arrogant sumbitches to be forcible. Then all of a sudden he _was_ resisting them, and with full-out, never-mind-if-they-got-rough sincerity. Mal wrenched away and managed to get several steps before he was backed into a corner and held tight again.

"Just whoa, there," he protested. "What the hell is that?" One of the bastards had an injector gun and was fixing to stick him with it.

Harken watched him blandly. "It's just a mild ataractic. It won't harm you." Mal tried unsuccessfully to sidestep. He didn't know what that word meant but didn't see how nothing good could come of it. "Just curbs any violent tendencies," Harken added.

"I ain't got no..." Mal started, stopping when he saw the expression on Harken's face. "You can't be that damn afraid of me. You got me cuffed and got a room full of these fine trained Alliance MPs to protect you."

Harken favored him with another bland smile. Mal had talked Harken over to his way of thinking before, might be could work again. Maybe. The Commander hadn't ordered the MP with the injector to go ahead... yet.

"You may recall the circumstances of our last encounter, sergeant," Harken said, cocking an eyebrow.

Mal stared hard at him. "I recall saving your life."

Harken gave one of his peculiar little head shakes. "Yes. For which I remain grateful. And which earned you the benefit of the doubt--and your release without charges--that time." Mal studied him. The man spoke true but wasn't changing his mind on this drug notion. Then Harken met his eyes and Mal could see that the man had grown a little harder, had seen a few more things, from when he was new to the border.

"You may recall that you saved my life by killing a man." Harken stared straight at Mal. "A man who had already taken out several of my 'fine trained'--and well armed--'Alliance MPs'. And you killed him, while unarmed, and handcuffed."

Mal opened his mouth but couldn't think of one more gorram argument. Slowly he said, "I saw that fear in your eyes. I thought it was for the fella with the knife to your throat. You were scared of me."

Harken looked down but didn't seem offended. "It was about fifty-fifty," he said. He gestured to the MP with a flick of his finger. The MP stuck the injector against the side of Mal's neck and pulled the trigger.

The drug hit him instantly. The room swayed and blurred. "Whoa..." Vertigo, more intense than any he'd known, far more than the first time in free fall, swept over him.

"Sit him down," he heard Harken say from a great distance. Commander Harken appeared at the end of a long, contorted tunnel awash with bizarre colors like a nebula. Or a plasma explosion. Mal shook his head and wished to hell he hadn't. He was sitting, didn't remember when or how. Time warped. He swallowed and swallowed again, couldn't decide if he wanted to throw up or not. He'd never felt this instantly and totally sick before. Like being gut-shot but without the soothing comfort of blinding pain to latch on to. Dizzy and nauseous. Sick as a... Something about that reminded Mal of something. What? Couldn't think. Couldn't focus.

Distorted bits and pieces of conversation reached him. Harken was talking to someone. Who was the creepy little fella in the suit? Or were there two of him?

_...wrong with him?  
__...bad reaction...  
__...still conducive to questioning...  
__...efficacy unaffected...  
__...doesn't help if he can't answer...  
__...ask the questions_...

Mal's head was pulled back and he felt a cup pressed against his lips. He turned aside.

"You can swallow willingly or we will force it down you," he heard Harken say, sounding immensely reasonable. "It won't harm you." That's what he'd said about this poison, wasn't it? "It'll just settle your stomach and clear your head."

It did. A bit at least. Mal winced at the light that seemed too bright. Recollection came to him, in a cold, unsettling way. _Hardly knows what hit him… especially if he's all distracted…_ He certainly had been distracted. Gorramit. Had they shot him full of that truth telling drug he and the preacher had prepped for? It didn't seem quite right. He'd seen an interrogation using that drug before--hell, he'd conducted it--the fellow hadn't been as dizzy and muddled as Mal felt, just had an impulse to blurt out the truth without thinking about it. The counter-agent, though… he'd never seen that, only had rumors and the Shepherd's say-so on what it did.

Even still this seemed different than he'd expected. Something else in the stuff, making him kind of foggy, like some of Doc's potions? A sedative? Narcotic? What Harken had said about curbing violent impulses… Well, that had some truth to it. Mal didn't much care about doing violence to no one. No, that wasn't true. He'd happily murder the lot of the bastards right now, fast or--better--slow, it just seemed like far too much trouble to go to.

Mal leaned back and breathed heavily for a moment. "You want to kill me, just shoot me," he said, trying to give Harken a dirty look but not at all sure he succeeded. "Don't poison me."

"You haven't been poisoned," Harken said, still sounding way too reasonable. "In a minute you'll be feeling better. Calm and relaxed, I'm told. Then we can begin our conversation."

Yup, he did feel relaxed, though 'calm' in the unworried sense of the word still roamed a fair piece away. Still, Mal doubted he could have worked up the ambition to make it to the other end of the table to strangle Harken even if he could. "So, you got me all neutered, here. What say you take these cuffs off?"

Mal was more than a mite surprised when Harken nodded to a guard who unlocked Mal's hands. Bringing them around front, Mal propped his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands, covering his eyes. If they would just give him a minute to regroup...

Of course not.

The guards pulled him back upright. Mal stared at Harken. He was already worn out and the questioning hadn't even started. Recollecting how Harken had promptly veered off on all manner of wrong tracks last time around, Mal wondered idly what more surprises were galloping up to smack him unawares.

Out of his peripheral vision, off to his side, past the MP planted by his left shoulder, Mal caught a glimpse of a curiosity. A blue-gloved hand made a quick, pointing "go" gesture to Commander Harken.

Harken's eyes shifted toward Mal. "So, then, sergeant. Before we get to our primary purpose here, there's another matter we need to discuss." He leaned forward, staring at Mal intently. "Tell me. Do you know where River Tam is?"

"Yes."


	14. Chapter 14: Two By Two

**Blue Sun Job:** _Two By Two_  
靑日 Job: _Two By Two_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just a few exclamatory words used for the strongest cussing.  
他妈的 ta ma duh f#ck, used for all varients 

**_Advisory: _Some strong English cussing used.**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 14**

Zoe wasn't scared. She was furious. One look into Wash's eyes in _Serenity's_ cargo bay and if she'd had the means she'd have been willing to take out every one of the 他妈的 right there and then regardless of the cost. But she didn't have the means and that layered frustration on top of fury. As angry and hate-filled as Mal could get, it wasn't a patch on the dark place Zoe could go--she had years and years more practice at it. And fewer inhibitions leftover from gentler times to overcome.

_It's him..._ Zoe chewed over the comment the Fed made before they dragged the captain off and out. Why had they targeted Mal so exclusively? The math was off. Something wasn't adding up here. Zoe paced the cell, such as it was, ignoring the discomfort of the metal grate beneath her feet. They hadn't done anything to her yet, not really. Mal would be bearing the brunt of it. That was always the way of it, though, wasn't it?

The captain... sarge... Mal... _Sir..._ She rarely called him by his name. It was a distancing thing, in part. Party, military and ship-board formality melded into habit. The 'sir' thing bugged Wash even though he'd probably have been just as annoyed if she referred to the captain more familiarly. Maybe more.

Familiarity was the problem between the three of them, wasn't it. And--at the same time--a lack of familiarity. Too much between herself and Mal, and not enough between her and her husband. But could Wash bear the full load of the history between Zoe and the captain? Could Wash ever be secure enough in her devotion to him to accept all that had been? Or was his insecurity because she was holding back and he knew it?

Zoe ran her hands over the walls, pulling on the rings and brackets mounted on it. She pushed at the door even though she knew it was locked solid. They were caught in a trap and it was a dandy. Continuing a circuit around the small room, Zoe hunted vainly for a way out, knowing it was futile but unwilling to surrender.

_It's him..._ What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all? Always, always the hunt for meaning. Zoe leaned against a corner, sighing out the frustration she couldn't release through a nice relaxing bout of violence.

_None of it means a damn thing._ She'd said that to Mal once and later he'd turned around and said it to her; had come to believe it. Everything had a meaning, he'd once told her. A meaning, a purpose, a season for each thing. He didn't believe that any more. Didn't believe in a lot of things any more. Goodness and mercy. Zoe felt responsible for some of it. But, then, none of it meant a damn thing, did it? 

Closing her eyes, Zoe backtracked, edging away from the black hole of memory around which she now tread. It was the place, the One Thing, that stood squarely and permanently between her and Mal, the thing that separated them even as it created an unbreakable weld joining them for all time.

_Red reflected from silver. The valley of the shadow of death... Mal looked up at Zoe. Her expression as icy cold, she knew, as her heart felt within her, Zoe held the chain out toward him, the plain, flat cross spinning, catching the light and flashing it. _

"_You can have this," she said, hearing the chill in her voice and not caring. _

_Reaching out, she let it drop into his waiting palm. His hand closed around it. "This means something, you know. Faith. Hope. Trust. Promises made and fulfilled... Love." _

"_No, it doesn't," she said, looking away from him. _

"_I'd have been true to you," he said very softly. She turned back to regard him. "Still would. Still will. I'll never betray you," he added. "If you just have faith." _

"_I've got nothing to have faith in," she said. "None of it means a damn thing." As she turned away, she added. "You won't see me again." _

_As she strode away, she thought she heard him whisper. "Yes, you will."_

Zoe stared up into the harsh lights behind the ceiling grid. How--_how_--could she tell Wash about thing she couldn't even think on herself? How could she talk to her husband about things that had happened between her and Mal that they themselves never, ever spoke on?

He had been true to her. As good as his word for all time. This time might be different. They were caught bad. Zoe slammed a fist back into the wall. She wouldn't--couldn't--give up. Not yet. They'd come through worse. Far worse. Couldn't count Mal out. He'd hold out and somehow manage to turn things around to save them all. Just had to have faith in him...

* * *

"_Do you know where River Tam is?" _

"_Yes."_

Shit! Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He'd just signed all their death warrants.

Just blurted it out before he could even think. Damn. No blurting. Think fast but talk slow. Crap… how could he backtrack from this? Had to stall. Puking remained a viable option. He had to think fast.

Hell… no, he didn't. He just had to think faster than Harken. Huh. That whole 'calm' thing rode on in and joined the 'relaxed' they'd drugged him into. Morons. Outsmarted themselves on that. Couple that with years of practice at lying straight-faced to the Feds. For all that he'd been on the verge of panic inside, Mal knew he hadn't so much as twitched on the outside. Said 'yes' but gave 'em nothing else. He could read it all over Harken's face.

Holding his expression, Mal let his gaze drift away from Harken. The walls. The ceiling. Just appear uninterested and unconcerned about what he'd said. If he could just control the impulses fighting it out in his head, maybe, just barely may-perhaps-be he had a chance to hold out and not get them all killed. Or dissected. Or whatever the hell other nasties thebastards had in mind.

It would be like walking a knife's edge. Had to stick as near to the truth as possible. Get caught in one flat-out lie and they'd decide everything else was a lie too. Then they'd dig and dig until they got what they wanted. A dangerous game. He might have to give them some things he'd rather not, just to cover the greater risk. A war game. Played for real and for keeps like all war games he'd ever played. Some sacrifice on one front to win on another. 'Cept which fronts had the Independents ever won on?

"Hmmm?" He actually had missed Harken's question. Man seemed annoyed. Must not have blurted out anything more. That was good. Keeping the control.

"Sergeant Reynolds. Pay attention. I asked, do you know where River Tam is?"

"Yeah. Sure 'nough do." Mal drawled the words out. Might be a nice, easy Shadow, border-world accent could come in handy in this here case. Them Alliance boys usually talked all fast and clipped. Some of them even pronounced Chinese like it was still a tonal language.

"_Where_ is River Tam?"

Mal squinted at Harken. "Londinium."

Harken gave a fast shake of his head. "Where on Londinium?"

"The capital city," Mal said, adding a touch of irritation to his tone. "What's going on here? Didn't you never get no schooling? You drag me in here to give you a geography lesson?"

"What? Just tell me everything you know about River Tam."

And there was the opening to barrage them with a huge diversion. "Well…" Mal said, talking as slowly and lazily as he could manage, "as I recollect there's this big, fancy river what runs on through the capital city on Londinium. Never have been there myself, of course. You can bet your ass no ex-Independent soldier'd ever be 'lowed to set down on that gorram rock. Seen pictures, though. 他妈的 Feds swarming around every damned place acting like they own the 'verse…"

Harken shook his head and leaned forward, trying to interrupt Mal. "What are you talking about? Tell me about River Tam."

"…which, I suppose in point of fact, thebastards do seeing as me and mine didn't manage to kill near enough of you…" Mal ignored Harken and launched off on a long discussion of the nature of the Alliance and those in it. It was a sweet--if mind-bogglingly dangerous--opportunity to finally tell the 他妈的 just exactly what he thought of them, in case they'd missed the point back when he still was shooting at 'em. Seeing as it was like to be his last chance, in this lifetime, he decided to make good use of it, pulling out every bit of the nastiest things the Independent soldiers ever said about the enemy, plus more than a fair bit of his own opinions on the subject. Mal could feel the Alliance MPs around him tense at some of the comments, knowing they wanted to wallop him, and enjoyed heartily how he was managing to rile them. Harken tried over and over to interrupt and get him back on the questioning track, but Mal knew from experience--which was blatantly clear Harken lacked--how an interrogation with this truth drug went. Mal knew how hard it had been to keep the fellow on track if asked open-ended questions or 'tell me about's. Harken didn't have a Zoe on hand to keep the subject properly focused.

"Ow." Mal stopped talking. Okay, they'd figured that one out.

Harken looked to be at his wits end, more worn than Mal felt. Mal stared at him with a blank expression, as if completely unaware he'd just mortally insulted Harken and every other Fed in this room.

Creepy suit guy leaned over and whispered in Harken's ear. Harken nodded, glancing at Mal.

"_Captain_ Reynolds," Harken said and Mal noticed he'd been promoted out of war-time rank and status to present day. Trying to keep him from diverting off on another Independent versus Alliance tirade. The suit guy had to be watched. Not just creepy, but dangerous. Were they the ones after…? No, don't even think the name.

"Captain Reynolds," Harken said again, "When I searched _Serenity,_ the last time we met, were River and Simon Tam hiding in your ship?"

"No." True enough. But, damn, Harken had gotten clued in to the trick of asking very specific questions. Harder to divert them. And the impulse to answer quickly, and truthfully, was still there. Stronger, in fact. Was the antidote wearing off? Or his own tiredness working against him? Breaking down barriers? It was like a pressure right on his brain.

"Tell me…" Harken stopped and rephrased, "Do you know where River Tam is?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"Londinium." Mal focused hard so as to not appear to be having too much fun with this. Now that he'd nailed his angle on this point of questioning he could fly Harken in circles all damned day.

After a few more go-'rounds one of the other Feds--Mal took him to be Harken's aide--made a small sound and a look of revelation spread across his face. Leaning over to Harken, he whispered in the commander's ear. Harken rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Captain, do you know where the river Thames is?" he asked with clear exasperation in his tone.

Bingo, you bastard. "Yes."

"Captain Reynolds. What is the name of the river that flows through the capital city Londinium?"

"Tam," Mal answered, utterly straight-faced. Truth be told, he could only barely hear the difference in the way the two words were pronounced by Harken, and then only because he'd spent more time that he cared to amongst Core world folk. Tam. Tem… Nuances of pronunciation. Harken did add a faint hiss of an 's' to the end, but border folk routinely dropped off those pesky last consonants.

"Gentlemen," Harken said to suit-guy, "You can plainly see this line of questioning is going no where. As I told you before we began, I had searched this man's ship months earlier and did not find your fugitives. And in the past day we have torn that ship apart top to bottom…" Mal cringed inwardly, but was careful not to visibly react. "…and while we found quite a number of dubious and/or extremely illegal things, we found no indication--not even down to some DNA trace evidence samples taken--that the Tams were ever aboard that Firefly." Harken straightened and sounded admirably officious. Mal was mostly surprised to find himself rooting for a Fed. "So if there will be nothing more, I suggest you take your leave and let me get to the real reason this man was taken into custody."

The creepy fellow gave a short bow and exited Mal's field of view. Or did he hear two sets of footsteps leaving? That sense of pressure lifted as the door slid closed behind him. Them? Whichever.

No matter… he was out of the frying pan…

"So, Sergeant Reynolds," Harken started, his voice turning suddenly very cold, "do you recall me saying to you that for some the war would never end?"

"Yes," Mal answered--fast and truthful--and he felt a sudden twitch of fear reach in and tweak him.

"Things happened in the war that might make a man on the wrong… on the _losing_… side want to go back and refight one of those old battles." Harken leaned forward and stared at Mal intently. "Now, sergeant, we are going to have a little talk about old battles, and Blue Sun."

…and into the fire.


	15. Chapter 15: Give the Devil His Due

**Blue Sun Job**: _Give the Devil His Due_  
靑日 Job: _Give the Devil His Due_

**

* * *

**

Chinese:  
No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just a few exclamatory words used for the strongest cussing.  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck, used for all varients  
狗屎 go se crap/sh-t

**_Advisory: _Some strong English cussing used.**

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Weren't nothin' good to be said about waking up in a jail, Jayne thought as he groaned expansively. Not even if it was a clean, high-tech, Alliance jail that didn't even smell like a proper jail. 'Specially weren't good to wake up in jail with the mother of all hangovers. Jayne moaned and struggled to sit up, clutching his head. Too damned bright in here. Jails shouldn't be all bright and clean and white. Should be dark and dirty and stinky.

Jayne's eyes roamed over the stark walls of the enclosed cell. Solid door--couldn't see out. He supposed the cap'n and Zoe were locked up in cells like this somewhere nearby. Everything must have gone well and truly to hell on the job. Jayne just hoped it was Mal that blew it, not him. Mite fuzzy, though, on just what all went on last night. Or was it the night before? He was more'n a little drunk even before Mal dropped off the loot.

"Good morning, sir." The cell door opened silently. Weren't right. Jail cells ought to make that nasty pit-of-the-gut kerthunk sound. This just weren't proper. And who the hell was that and who the hell would be 'sirring' him in a jail… or any other damned place, for that matter?

Jayne squinted up. It was a gorram cop looking down at him with an eerie damned smile on his face. Looked more like a waiter than a guard. What the hell…?

Guard had a tray with what sure 'peared to be breakfast. Damn, a jail with room service? And poe-lite manners? The guard set the tray down.

"Those tablets will help your… um… _discomfort_," the guard/waiter said.

Hangover's the word, dumbass, Jayne thought, gulping the pills. Hell's bells… score one for high tech Alliance 狗屎. His headache and queasiness eased immediately and that tray of breakfast suddenly looked damned appealing.

Another cop appeared behind the first. This one looked senior, an officer or some such. Jayne glanced up as he shoveled in the plate of food. Good stuff. Real food and lots of it. Not that he was keen to be locked up anywhere, but all things considered, this here jail weren't half bad.

"The casino apologizes, sir, for your, uh, brief residence here," the officer said. Jayne looked up. Huh? "And wishes us to assure you it was done solely for your own safety and comfort."

What? Jayne stared. "What?"

"And you have their full assurance that your money is protected in their safe, ready for you to pick up at your convenience."

Damn. Helluva jail. Maybe Mal was flat-ass wrong about the Alliance and the Core. These seemed like damned shiny folks. Weren't he under arrest, though? Jayne didn't exactly want to probe the point in case it gave them notions. But… "What?"

"And a limo will be waiting for you outside when you're ready, to return to the casino where, they tell me, they are more than happy to provide you a comped room for as long as you care to stay with them," the officer concluded.

Huh. Waking up in a jail weren't so bad after all.

* * *

Mal stared coolly at Harken while inwardly squelching that twitch of fear. He'd gotten past the biggest danger--to all of them, and to River and Simon. He just had to take care not to raise any suspicion that he was beating their truth drug. Where was Harken aiming with this talk of war and lost battles? Sure, he and Zoe had admitted to each other and themselves that winning one was a motivation for the job, but why the devil did Harken care? The Feds either had them cold on the evidence or they didn't. Hmmm... maybe they didn't. Maybe they were just fishing after all. But why Commander Harken? They'd crossed paths with him exactly once and that was way the hell out away from this Core system. Why would Harken be called back to question him. Whatever other talents Harken may have to offer the Alliance, Mal had not been exactly dazzled by his interrogation skills before. 

What did Harken have? Had Jayne ratted them out? Or Monty's Fed nephew? _Serenity's_ crew was in custody, what about Monty's ship and crew? Had they got caught too?

Mal's head spun and it wasn't just with the unanswered questions and unknowns trying to trap him. This 狗屎 in his bloodstream confounded him. Couldn't hardly hold his train of thought. He leaned forward, rubbing his eyes. One of the MPs pulled his left hand away, attaching a clip to his middle finger, with the wires running back to the console behind him. It was like a medical clip to read a person's vitals. Except he doubted the sumbitches were concerned about his health.

Harken's eyes left Mal for a flick--getting a 'go ahead' from the fellow at the console behind Mal, no doubt. Here we go, Mal thought.

"So, then," Harken said, giving a sniff as he flipped through the pages in front of him. Mal'd have given a pretty to get a look at what was written there. That there was Harken's big advantage--what he knew that Mal didn't. Walking a mine field. Gorram mine field of truth and lies. Have one lie blow up in his face and the game would be over.

"You joined the Independents at quite a young age, it seems," Harken said, still looking at the papers. "Nineteen or so? Is that correct?"

Mal managed a hesitation before answering. Holding control. "Thereabouts." Don't get him expecting fast yes/no answers.

"Would you say this service record is accurate?"

"Wouldn't say."

Harken looked up. "Do you mean it's not accurate?"

"Don't know."

"Explain," Harken said.

"I don't know what you're reading there. Don't know what you Fedbastards got from our command," Mal said. "Give me a look and I'll tell you."

"Hmmm. Maybe later." Harken sniffed and flipped a page back. "Interesting…" He looked up at Mal. "When was the first time you took up arms against the Alliance?"

Mal gave him a grim smile. "Back home. Kicked the 他妈的ers off our world."

"Yes," Harken said, setting down the papers. He leaned back and regarded Mal speculatively. "The Shadow revolt. Before the war. Before there was even any sort of organized group calling themselves 'Independents'. Isn't that so?"

"Ummm." Where was he going with this? And how much history was in those papers? And what did this have to do with the Blue… nope, don't think that. Harken wanted to kill time with irrelevant 狗屎, Mal was more'n happy to play along.

"A ragtag peasant militia thinking they could murder Alliance soldiers with impunity," Harken said, staring. Mal didn't much care for the word 'murder' getting dropped into the conversation that way. "Tell me, sergeant, how many Alliance troops did you murder that day?"

Well, good on Harken for using the word 'murder' after all. It gave Mal the crumb of resistance to not blurt out the number that was on the tip of his tongue. "None," he answered instead, a little shaken nevertheless that the urge to answer impulsively was still so strong and hard to contain.

Harken studied him a long moment. Mal could see his circuits flashing, calculating, doin' the math. "How many Alliance soldiers did you _kill_ that day?" Harken asked slowly and precisely.

"Three." Shit! Too fast.

Harken's eyes slid past Mal to the fellow at the whateverthehellitwas console behind him. "Why didn't the first answer register as a lie?"

A voice behind Mal--vaguely familiar, though he couldn't place it--answered, "Perception of truth is the key. This gives a register of perceived truth; truth as opposed to facts. What the subject regards as true rather than what is or is not factual."

Standing, Harken clasped his hands behind him, looking thoughtful as he walked down toward Mal's end of the long table. Even though he hadn't moved, the guards clamped their hands down on Mal's shoulders. Them fellas was brighter than their boss, Mal thought. "Then how can we know it's working?" Harken asked.

"Get him to tell a known lie," the voice at the console answered. "Then we'll know if it's calibrated correctly."

No rutting way, Mal thought.

"Hmmm… I'm told that's impossible at the moment," Harken said. He was out of Mal's field of view. When he came back by the table, Mal saw Harken had a small vial in his hand, turning it slowly and thoughtfully. Must be the stuff. Mal couldn't read the label, but he did notice two things--with a chill that struck to the core of his soul--the vial was still about a third full of liquid, and it had a small, blue logo on the corner of it.

"Something just caused a reaction," the voice behind Mal said. "First divergence off center I've seen yet."

Harken raised a quizzical eyebrow, half-seating himself down on the edge of the table. "So… this frightens you," he said, rolling the vial between his fingers. Mal just stared at him.

"I ain't scared of you," Mal said, low.

With a smile that _was_ downright scary, Harken said, "Yes, you are. And you have every reason to be. We're going to break you, you know. It's just a matter of when. How long it takes and how unpleasant it is for you until we reach that point. Do you know that?"

"Yes." Gorramit, he did know that. Time, and every other damned thing, was on their side.

"Yes," Harken repeated. "I don't need a machine or drugs to tell me that's the truth." Harken stood, striding back down to his end of the long table. He sat down, setting the vial on the table in front of him. Mal stared at it, fighting for control.

Harken was studying him closely. "Sergeant Reynolds. Do you know that you were injected with a drug that compels you to speak, and to speak truthfully?"

Mal swallowed. "Yes."

"Hmmm… that is interesting. Especially so since I only learned of this drug today. So, you know this drug exists and you know how it works. Correct?"

他妈的 "Yes."

Harken leaned forward, staring at him intently. "I know from your record that you've been interrogated by Alliance authorities before, though…" he flipped through the papers, "…there's no indication any drugs were used on you in those instances." He looked up again. "How do you know about this truth drug?"

Mal struggled against the compulsions battling within him, and the conscious awareness he couldn't be caught in an outright lie, not at this point, not when the creepy suit guy could still be called back in to go back over that lethal-to-them-all territory regarding their hidden fugitives. He sighed and met Harken's eyes coldly. "Because I used it on one of you sumbitches back in the war."

* * *

Jayne stared up at the bright blue sky above the balcony of his hotel suite, not admiring the way the clouds drifted by, nor the purtiness of the color, but wondering at what altitude a man'd get sucked out an airlock. Mal was gonna kill him. He'd missed the rendezvous by better'n a day. 

Walking back into the room--fanciest damned place he'd ever seen--Jayne stared at the money in the case on the bed. It was a fortune. He'd not only managed to launder the coin, he'd actually won more off the casino. He was a damned good gambler. 'Cept when it came to betting against one Malcolm Reynolds. Never did know abastard who could back him down like the cap'n did, and just with a look. Gave him the uncomfortables.

Jayne looked around the hotel room. It was sorely tempting to say 'the hell with it', take the money and head off on his own. Weren't like he had the kind of grievances with the Alliance that Mal had. Not that he had any kind of liking for the bastards, but this kind of cash would buy a lot of bygones. And it weren't like the cap'n could hunt him down here on this Fed-infested world. Mal had to lay way lower on this moon than Jayne did. Jayne could be free and rich and not have a boat-load of sentimental fools nattering on about loyalty to trouble his conscious.

Oh, hell… Crossing to the Cortex screen, Jayne punched up Delta port info. Like as not the cap'n had already written him off, taken _Serenity_ and bolted on outta here.

Jayne stared at the readout on the screen for a long time. Then he slowly, and methodically, set about tracking news reports and--using some codes he wasn't supposed to have--tapping into Alliance arrest reports. 他妈的.

Yup. Jayne was free and rich. No more ties to that dumb-ass little ship or its crew. He could walk away clean and never give a one of them another thought.

He sighed and punched a cross-worlds phone link. The screen cleared after a moment.

"Hey, 'Nara," Jayne said, with a grin. "How's about we set an appointment for some Companion-like whoring?"

* * *

Harken stared at Mal for a long time, then gave himself a small shake. "Well," he said. "Well, then…" He looked down at his papers, obviously not really seeing them, but shuffling through them nevertheless. "I suppose we can drop any pretense here, then," Harken said, focusing again on Mal. "I had imagined this interview might take several days, but we may be able to conclude the matter in fairly short order. Tell me, sergeant--do you know of a way to beat this truth dr…" 

Had to cut him off. Couldn't risk answering that question, truth or lie. He was cornered. Out-gunned. Out-maneuvered. And with no line of retreat. That left only one option. Attack.

"What matter is that, Harken?" Mal demanded, cutting in before Harken could finish his question. "What the hell are you after? Huh? I ain't done nothing I know of that should have your ass in here pestering me with a load of 狗屎 questions. You got charges against me? If you do, make 'em. Otherwise, let me outta here." He made a half-hearted attempt to rise, stopped immediately by the guards.

"You're not leaving, sergeant," Harken said quietly. "There are enough charges standing against you and your crew just as we sit to put you out of our way for a some time. Even without my purpose in interviewing you here, the authorities on Beta would welcome a chance to discuss some old matters with you. Then there's the matter of having landed on Delta with false registration on your ship. Why'd you do that?"

"Are you an idiot, Harken? Don't need any gorram truth drug to get the answer to that. Of course you are. We'd have never been allowed into this system otherwise, or been arrested as soon as we landed," Mal said.

"I suppose that's true."

"That you're an idiot," Mal inserted. One of the guards made a sound quickly converted to a discrete cough.

Harken ignored him. "It doesn't affect the legality of the matter, though it's a minor issue. You have quite a history in this system--and not one I'd think you'd care to revisit, judging from these files. A fairly unpleasant stay here, from the looks of it." He put the papers down and looked up. "Why did you come to this system?"

Mal shook his head. "Just dropping off our whore."

Harken's eyes widened and he shuffled through his papers again. "Ah, yes… the Companion. Explain."

"She wanted to leave and wasn't keen on getting dumped off on some rim world. Paid us to take her in to the Core." Mal held his breath, waiting to see if the gadget behind him twigged to the half--well, less than half--truthness of that statement. Fighting not to react as Harken's gaze again slid past him to the fellow at the console, Mal held his control carefully.

"Ummm… that's doubtful, Commander," the voice behind him said. "There was a small reaction, but nothing definite."

Harken studied Mal closely. "You didn't need to leave the port on Delta to drop off the Companion. Yet I know you spent several days on Beta. At a hotel. A somewhat unsavory hotel. With your first officer. The woman married to your pilot. Did you sleep with her?"

"Yes." Just sleeping, though not much of it. "What the 他妈的 business is it of yours, Harken? Screwing ain't illegal that I know of… 'less it's in a public park."

"No, it's not," Harken said and Mal didn't care at all for the slimy smile spreading across the Fed's face. "But it does show me a crack in the loyalty of your crew. About your pilot. And your first officer. And do you love her?"

"No," Mal answered fast. Annoyed.

"That's a lie," the voice behind him came flatly. _That_? That's what they were gonna get him on? Holy 狗屎. Mal couldn't have even said himself if that was a lie or not--what was right? Him, the truth drug, or the gorram lie detector?

Harken watched Mal as he twirled the drug vial. Mal knew he'd let his reaction show and was cussing himself for it.

"The drug might be wearing off, sir," Harken's aide said. "Might want to give him the rest."

"Or the sedative might be giving him some resistance, some control" the voice behind Mal said.

"Hmmm…" Harken stared. "Well, we have time. Let's let the sergeant have some time, too, to think. While I discuss matters with the rest of his crew. I imagine that pilot might like to have a chat about this." He gestured to the guards. "Take him back."

"What the 他妈的 are you after, Harken?" Mal asked angrily as the guards pulled him up, fastening his hands behind him again. "What do you care about the private lives of my crew? What the gorram hell does that have to do with anything? What are you really after?"

"Oh, your tawdry affair with your first officer is of no concern, other than as it gives me leverage." Harken tilted the vial, looking at it fondly. "I have only a small dose of this left and must make certain it has maximum efficacy when you and I talk about more serious matters." He smiled up at Mal, a reptilian smile. "Interesting as this drug is, I'm somewhat of a traditionalist at heart. Other methods have value in this process. You will break and give me everything I want."

"流口水的婊子和猴子的儿子," Mal said. _(This means: "Stupid son of a drooling harlot and a monkey"--said by River to Mal in "Safe", prefaced with "You're not him.")_ "Stop playing games and tell me what it is you're after." The guards were dragging him backwards toward the door. Time was on Harken's side. Mal didn't know how long the counter-agent to the truth drug would last. And didn't know how long he'd hold out against Harken's 'traditional' methods of questioning.

Harken looked at him coldly. "A confession, among other things."

"Confession of what?" They were at the door.

A chilling smile. An obnoxiously smug sniff. Harken gestured to the guards with the hand not holding the 哎呀 vial.

They dragged Mal out.

Mal stopped fighting the guards after the door to the interrogation room slid closed, though he let them support a good bit of his weight. He felt weak and dizzy. Drained. And they weren't half done.

They entered a lift. As the door closed, one of the MPs escorting Mal gave a soft snort. Then all four burst out laughing.

"Drooling son of a monkey and a harlot," one said.

"No, no, it was 'Stupid son of a drooling harlot and a monkey'," another corrected. They laughed again. "That was good."

"So glad to make your day," Mal said sourly. "How's about you boys giving me a bit of a break, here?"

"Shut up," one snarled, smacking him.

"No one ever said Independents were bright," another said.

They lapsed back into silence, but were a touch more considerate than they'd been before, not as outright rough, at least. Insulting their commander must have earned Mal a few points with the troopers. Before putting him back in the waiting room, they made a stop at a restroom, not preventing him from splashing some water on his face, and cupping his hands to drink a bit, which he promptly threw up into the toilet. Rinsing his mouth out, Mal leaned against the sink. The kindly indulgence was over, though, and the MPs hauled him on out and back into the metal cell, this time chaining his hands high up over his head.

One of the guards produced another injector. More rutting drugs.

The door slammed closed and the lights went out. Mal closed his eyes and grimaced. This one buzzed through him, shocking him into painful wakefulness. Some sort of stimulant. Keeping him awake. Bastards.

He tried to sort through all what was said, but he was having the devil's own time trying to focus. Time. Was on the devil's side. And Harken was the devil. Had to give the devil his due. But what was that? What was he after?

One shockingly clear bit of calculation came through to Mal--they didn't have him on the Blue Sun job. Harken was after something else entirely.


	16. Chapter 16: The Edge

**Blue Sun Job**: _The Edge_  
靑日 Job: _The Edge_

* * *

Chinese:  
他妈的 ta-ma-dah, f-uck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se, crap/sh-t  
懂吗? dong ma, understand?**

* * *

Chapter 16**

There wasn't gonna be any rescue. No Zoe appearing, guns blazing, to save the day. No _Serenity_ slamming into a skyplex. No big red button to call 'em back. No serenity...

No... No... ummm... Lost his train of thought again. 狗屎. Too much 狗屎 buzzing in his head. Drugs fighting drugs. All of 'em fighting him.

Mal realized he was breathing in short, gasping breaths. They cutting the air down? Used to do that in that dark cell beneath the prison. Dark. Like this. Not enough oh-two in the atmo. Messes with the mind. Strange notions. Hallucinations. What was the word? Ummm... hypoxia. Start to feel it. Then don't feel nothing at all. Knew that feeling. _Serenity_ had been there, though. No serenity now.

No, they didn't want him dead. Not yet. Wanted his memory. Memories. Confession? Of what? They weren't cutting the air down. Must be the drugs. Maybe panic.

Nope. No panic. Wasn't even afraid. Not really. Confounded. Unfocused. Tangled.

Focus... do the impossible. Mal forced his breathing to slow. Think. Think clearly. They weren't cutting the air down.

"_Welcome back, sir." Zoe... _

_...with you 'til the day you die. 'Til death us do... _

"_I go some place?" _

_Waking again in Serenity's infirmary. Lights down low. Not so many people about. But it must have been real. Wasn't dead. Y'all gonna be here…? Turned his head to look at Zoe, on the pull-down bed. Wanted her to wake up. See that she was okay. _

"_Captain?" _

_Simon's voice, soft, beside him. Had looked right past him without seeing him. Toward Zoe. _

"_How are you feeling?" _

_Confounded. Unfocused. Tangled. "Fine." Hurting. Throbbing in his gut growing every moment. "Fine." _

_A smile from the doc. Not buying it. Simon raised a syringe to inject into the IV line. _

"_Don't," Mal murmured. "Not yet." Looked at Zoe, wanted her to wake up. _

_Simon hesitated. Mal saw him glance toward Zoe. "All right." He put the syringe down. "But just for a bit. Only thing that will cut the pain, for now, is going to put you out. There's no need for hurting." _

"_A sound policy," Mal whispered. _

"_She's fine," Simon said. Mal focused on him. Staring a question. "Zoe's fine. Just sleeping." _

"_Mmmm..." _

"_So... the first time I stitched you up you said you'd been hurt plenty worse than that. This time the worst?" _

_With a slight chuckle, Mal said, "Not even close." _

"_What was the worst time?" Simon asked. _

"_You drug me silly so you can question me?" Mal squeezed his eyes closed, trying to think. So tangled. "Um… the worst… um…" _

"_Alliance field hospital?" Zoe's voice came quietly. Mal turned toward the glittering eyes meeting his from the other bed. _

"_Uh huh." _

_Simon looked surprised. "Mygod..__Worst injury? Or worst situation?" _

_Mal considered. "Both." _

"_You almost died this time." Doc disappointed? That he hadn't gotten to patch up the 'worst'? Helluva bedside manner. Doc had a touch of sadist in him. _

"_You crashed twice, sir" Zoe said, softly. A gentle smile. _

_He smiled back, faintly. "Just trying to one-up you." He turned back toward Simon. Doc was shaking his head. Peculiar patients for a big city doctor, Mal figured. "Woke up in my own ship. With folks all around who cared I wasn't dead. And a three percent doc pumping me full of shiny drugs to make the hurting go away." _

"_How'd you get out of that situation--the Alliance hospital?" Simon asked. _

_Mal gave a twitch of a smile. "How do you suppose?" He gestured with his eyes toward the other bed. Zoe. _

"_Of course," Simon said, lifting the syringe again. Sending him back into the black._

Breathing steadied, but head still confounded. Mal wanted to struggle against the restraints but couldn't. No slack at all. That was the Alliance. No slack. No quarter. No Zoe to the rescue this time. No rescuing Zoe, either.

End of the line...

他妈的. Harken? _Harken_ was gonna defeat him? Slimy weasel Harken? Weren't right. For some reason he felt like Harken had tipped his hand a mite. But how? What?

_For some the war'll never be over._ Who? Him? Or Harken? Fed holding a grudge? Hell, they won. Won it all. _Seems odd you'd name your ship after a battle you were on the wrong side of._ Still not convinced it was the wrong one. _You're still fighting the same battle, Sergeant. Only these weren't soldiers you murdered._

...old battles, and Blue Sun... _Sergeant... _

"_It's not 'sergeant.' Not no more. War's over." _

"_For some the war'll never be over."_

Refight old battles... Old prison now the Blue Sun treasury. Just a job, not a strike. A chance to win one...

"_I'm gonna make a leap and figure this is your first tour out here on the border." _

"_Actually, sergeant, I was called back to the Core specifically on account of you."_

Beware the blue... River'd been distracted ever since their failed smuggling job on New Horizons... _"Blue Sun," Mal said to Zoe. In response to her puzzled look, he explained. "Got the notion from River... old prison now the Blue Sun hard currency treasury." Beware the Blue_

What...?

...old battles, and Blue Sun... _Sergeant... "Things happened in the war that might make a man on the wrong… on the losing… side want to go back and refight one of those old battles. Now, sergeant, we are going to have a little talk about old battles, and Blue Sun."_

Mal squeezed his eyes closed. Buzzing tangle in his head. Confounding. Blue logo on a bottle. On a whiskey bottle--spilling his guts to his crew. On a drug bottle--spilling his guts to Harken? Mal's thoughts whipped about in disjointed fragments like the way River talked. _"For some the war'll never be over."_ Beware the blue.

His eyes snapped open. Not seeing the darkness.

Son of a bitch.

* * *

Wash wasn't much worried for himself. He really was only the pilot on this job, sitting innocently in the ship in port on a whole 'nother world from where the crime took place. He wasn't all that worried for himself--really--but he was terrified for his wife. 

The time waiting in _Serenity's_ cargo bay, on his knees with an Alliance rifle barrel pressed into his neck, was the longest of his life, hoping to hell Zoe and the captain wouldn't walk back into this trap. Hoping they hadn't already been caught. Hoping...

Suddenly, Wash got, at that down-deep core of the soul level, a part of what made Zoe and Mal tick the way they did. Helpless defeat. When the Alliance troopers boarded _Serenity_, it hit him in the gut in a way it never had before. They were beaten, utterly helpless in the hands of their enemies. Defeated. Everything taken away--the ship, the other people, his wife, freedom, knowledge, control of his own future, control of the next gorram minute of his life... everything. In one swift moment, the Alliance took everything, defeated him and made him helpless.

So this is what Zoe and the captain had lived with for so many years. This was the thing that made them run when they could, kill when they must, and act scary-ass freaky a lot of other times in between. It was easier for Wash to see in Mal than in Zoe, but if he worked at it, he could recall what she'd been like before they got together, what he noticed, at least, when he wasn't staring at her butt and other such tantalizing parts, and what she still could be like at times--mostly when she was with Mal.

Wash's eyes darted around the blank, military-gray walls of the cell again for the umpteenth time with the panicky need-to-get-out feeling that was getting weirdly familiar. He'd had a lot of time to ponder helplessness and defeat the past few days, having the up-close first-hand experience being thrust upon him the way it was. The moment of defeat didn't end. It kept on. Not knowing what was going on past that locked door was the worst.

Zoe was taken off the ship a short time after the captain. She called a stern, "none of you say anything," order and then she was gone. Damn. Couldn't her parting words have been, "I love you, husband"? That would have been nice. Or "We'll be together again soon"? That had the virtue of being both comforting and optimistic. Wash devoted several hours--or what he guessed was several hours--working out variations on Zoe's parting words. "None of you say anything" didn't even make Wash's top ten list of things he wished she had said.

Well... here was the twist Wash had never really considered. Zoe in deep 狗屎 of the could put her in jail for years and years kind, while him, probably not so much.

Probably. Maybe? Not that he knew. His eyes flitted around again and he desperately wanted to try the door. But he didn't want to find out--again--that it wouldn't open. If he sat here not trying it he could pretend for a few minutes that it wasn't locked, that he could just walk over, open the door and head on out of here.

No wonder Mal was crazy. It really was a perfectly reasonable option under the circumstances. Running his hands through his hair, Wash quickly scanned every inch of the cell again. Two days, or thereabouts, locked up alone and he was quite willing to consider 'crazy' as an option. How long had Mal been locked up alone at that military prison after the war? And in total darkness, no less? Weeks? Months.

Mal. Mal and Zoe. Zoe and Mal... they always came back. Survived. Made it through. Came back. Together in a tricky situation. Together... 我的妈, though... they weren't. They had been together, all alone together on Beta, in that hotel room... Okay, best not think on that. However jealous he may get when they were off together, he knew they watched each other's backs and the captain would put his life up so Zoe could come back to Wash. But they weren't together. Not this time. The captain had been taken out first. Then Zoe.

Blank, gray walls. No way out. Zoe could be in the cell right next door, for all Wash knew. Inches away. And Mal. And Kaylee. The Shepherd. All just a big mistake and the charges would be dropped and they'd all walk out of here together. Why, the door could open up any minute and the Feds would apologize--well, maybe not apologize--but let them go. All of them. Together.

Wash gulped hard and raked his fingers through his hair again as his eyes darted around the tiny room. The door would open any minute. Any min...

The door opened.

* * *

Any pretense of cool Companion control fell well and thoroughly away as Inara stared open-mouthed at Jayne. He looked… _good_. Not just good, handsome, sophisticated… Had she just thought the word 'sophisticated' in connection with Jayne Cobb? Merciful Buddha, she had. 

"Um… uh… pl… please, come in," she stuttered, stepping aside so he could enter the reception area of Companion house on Alpha. The sleazy grin he gave her as he came in was purely the Jayne she knew and abhorred. Well, maybe not 'abhorred', but… he was like the embarrassing black sheep brother of the family that… And now she was thinking of him as family. Inara schooled her features into a controlled Companion pose and tried not to think at all.

"Got some place we can go for a little alone time?" Jayne asked with a suggestive leer.

Inara scowled. "Yes. My room."

"Is it secure?" Jayne asked when they arrived. Interesting, Inara thought, he wasn't leering now, but examined the room critically, like a potential ambush--or crime scene.

"Yes," she said. "I've checked it out. We can talk."

Jayne set a fine leather case down on her bed, flicked the clasps and flung open the top, showing her a fortune in cash resting inside. "The job worked. I didn't get caught. But the rest of 'em did," he said. His voice, Inara noticed, was low and regretful sounding. She studied him, and the money, then him again for a minute. Jayne could have taken that money and run. "I got cash such as might buy them out, but I ain't got the connections or means to do it. Alliance got 'em."

"I know," Inara said, turning away toward the balcony overlooking the great city that sprawled over half of Alpha. Such a different world than the one the crew of _Serenity_ inhabited. Staring down at a nearby park, watching children running and playing, Inara oddly recalled Zoe refusing to set foot in a park on Ariel, '…there's sensors everywhere, and where there ain't sensors, there's Feds. All the central planets are the same." Inara understood that better now. Zoe hadn't been speaking from a base of ex-Independent, border-dweller ignorance; she'd been speaking from intense first-hand experience. How differently Zoe and Inara saw the 'verse. And how differently Inara now looked upon those things she thought she knew.

"_You can't go home again," Mal had said to her. "…it don't matter if nothing there's changed. You have, and that makes home not home anymore."_

Alpha, and this House, weren't her home, but they were very like it. And they were utterly alien to her eyes, now. Behind the tapestry and trappings, and the glitter and prosperity, the pomp and pretense, she now saw a darkness, a darkness trying to swallow and destroy people she cared--yes, 'cared'--about.

She turned toward Jayne who watched her closely. "I know they were arrested. _Serenity_ was impounded, too." Inara sighed. "Zoe asked me to keep watch. Just in case. But I don't know what I can do. I've been… um… choosing clients from among ranking Alliance law enforcement on Beta, but they're not on Beta. For some reason it was the military who arrested them and they're being held on an Alliance cruiser."

"Then you just gotta find out which'a them boys on that cruiser been itching to dip his… uh, to have himself a Companion and start workin' him. 懂吗? I got the cash to buy off the 他妈的 if you lure their shiny asses in here."

Inara looked at Jayne, examining him up and down, ending by meeting his eyes and holding them. "Why are you trying to help them? Why didn't you just take the money and go?"

Was it her imagination, or did Jayne blush? He certainly dropped his eyes from hers. " 'Cause they're on my crew," he muttered.

* * *

"Commander Harken!" Wash called cheerfully as he saw the Alliance officer sitting at one end of the long table. 我的妈, was he _happy_ to see a Fed? Well, okay, kinda. A familiar Fed, at least. Not a terribly evil, nasty sort. Decent fellow, actually. They'd had a pretty nice chat last time around, all things considered. Wash did notice, however, that a guard stayed down on Harken's side of the table. Big time robberies cutting in on the chumminess a bit? 

At least it was someone to talk to. Finally.

"How've you been?" Wash asked before Harken could get his first words out. "Surprised to see you this far in to the Core? You get reassigned? What brings you back here?"

Harken looked flustered, kinda like when Wash asked if he'd ever had himself a warrior woman. Harken was soooo sly. Wash grinned at him expectantly.

"I'll ask the questions here," Harken said. His expression went cold and Wash felt the chill. _None of you say anything…_ It may not have been, "I love you, husband," but Zoe certainly had made a valid point. Wash held his grin.

"Where's my wife?" Wash asked.

Now Harken smiled and Wash thought suddenly of a T-Rex he knew. "You don't want to talk to her," Harken said. "Not after the way she betrayed you."

"Zoe would never betray me," he said.

Harken gave a little shake of his head. "She already has. While you sat in that rat-trap of a ship she was screwing her head off with your captain."

"Really?" Wash held the grin but it was taking a bit more effort.

"Yes, really. We have detailed surveillance on them, from that hotel on Beta. We know everything that happened in that room, and…" he glanced down at some papers spread before him, "…it was quite the time those two were having behind your back."

Wash's grin spread a little bit broader. He leaned forward. "Oh, I see. You just don't get the arrangement we have," Wash said. "We've got this sort of three-way marriage thing worked out. Zoe and Mal were together a long time before I came along, you see. So this just worked out best for everyone."

Harken gave a short laugh. "Try another one. Your captain held out for a while, but when he broke, the first thing he gave up was his unseemly relationship with your wife, and how he wouldn't mind if you were out of the picture again. You have no reason to be loyal to either one of them. They've both sold you out and betrayed your trust.

Wash's grin faded away.

* * *

"Have a good rest, Harken?" Mal asked as the guards dumped him down in the chair in the interrogation room. Damn, but it felt good to sit. "You don't look too good," Mal added. Harken had a split lip, bruised and swollen. Mal would bet good money--Blue Sun platinum--that was Zoe's handiwork. 

"You're looking a little worn, yourself, sergeant," Harken said. "Didn't have a good night?"

Mal laughed, staring coldly into Harken's eyes. "Commander. You think your little games have even come close to getting to me? You just don't know me."

Harken nodded. "I know you better than you think. I know about loyalty and the value you place upon it. And I know about betrayal." Harken reached to set the small drug vial on the table in front of him. Mal pointedly ignored it. "I don't need this, Sergeant Reynolds. Nor do I need to break you any other way. I have what I need to make sure you never see the light of day again--or to see you dangle from the end of a rope, if you're lucky." He leaned forward and stared at Mal. "Your pilot gave up everything. Seems he's not too fond of you any more and would like very much to see you twist."

Holding Harken's eye, Mal stared at him, studying and probing. Couldn't tell. Couldn't tell if Harken spoke the truth or was playing out a lie. Too darned confounded and tired hisownself to read him for sure. Still… who would he pick to trust? Harken? Or Wash?

"What say we hook you up to this lie detector and have you tell me that one again?" Mal said, giving the Fed the deadliest look he could manage, which at this point, was pretty damned deadly.

"Hmph." Harken looked at him grimly, then gestured to the MPs. "Hook it up."

The guards unlocked the cuff around Mal's right wrist but immediately closed it around the chair frame, locking him to the chair by his left wrist.

"Coward," Mal said, low, staring at Harken. "Scared I'll give you a black eye to go with that split lip?"

"You already know I don't underestimate your capacity for deadly violence."

"Oh, yeah… that whole saving your gorram life incident." Mal gave a soft snort. "Guess that don't count for much at your end of the gutter." An MP attached the lie detector clip over the middle finger of his left hand.

Harken stared at him blandly. "How do you feel about three way marriages?"

Now that there was a purely confounding opening question, Mal thought. "Why? You interested in having a go? You ain't really my type."

"Mmmm…" Harken gave a sniff and shuffled through his papers. "You said you'd used this truth drug on an Alliance soldier during the war. Tell me about that incident."

Mal shrugged. Ancient history. Knowing the basic fact of the matter was the important piece of information and Harken had that. The rest was just commentary. "Okay," Mal said and gave a fairly straightforward account of the event. He told no lies, but did omit anything that would give Harken a better clue as to how the subject could be expected to react to the drug and an interrogation using it. Anything to stall off on Harken reaching for that damnvial in front of him.

The fellow at the console behind Mal never made a peep. Omissions must not count. Or Mal'd gotten to the tranquil, don't-give-a-damn place that was letting him beat the gorram machine. Nah… he just wasn't stoked with that kind of luck.

Item by item, battle by battle, action by action, Harken led him through Mal's service record. There were things he'd forgotten about, things he wished he could forget about, and quite a few he had carefully and purposely avoided thinking about in all the years since. A couple times he took a shot at rewriting history, but each time the fellow at the console inserted a quiet, "that's a lie," which caused Harken to glance down at the vial and so caused Mal to revise his tale to the truth. It all seemed pretty damned harmless and totally beside any point Mal could see, yet Harken seemed fixed on having these old war stories told out. Mal spotted several places where the record Harken had was incomplete but Mal didn't mention those. He'd always kinda hoped there'd been some record-burning at the Independent command at the surrender, but hadn't really known. Still, the Feds had an awful damned lot, and most of it accurate.

Harken gave a long sigh and leaned back. "And so we arrive at the planet Hera, and the decisive battle that ended you Independents. The battle from which you gave your ship its name. Serenity. Tell me about it, Sergeant Reynolds. Every detail."

Mal shook his head slowly. "No."

Taken aback, Harken asked, "Why?"

"You weren't there, were you?" Mal said. Harken shook his head. "You know anyone who was there? Ever talk to anyone who was there? From either side?"

"I know a few who were there but we've never discussed it. What are you getting at?"

Mal studied him grimly. "There's a reason they've never discussed it with you, or--I'd hazard the guess--with anyone else. You got numbers written down there. You got histories with brilliant flanking maneuvers and key positions. You got statistics and tallies and casualties and body counts… What you don't got is…" he faltered, closing his eyes a moment, and taking several deep breaths. "Just 'no'. I ain't going there. I ain't talking about it for your gorram amusement."

Was that a look of sympathy on Harken's face? Impossible. "I'm not doing this for my amusement, sergeant. It's laying important groundwork and I must insist we cover this territory whether you speak about it willingly, under drugs, or I have to beat it out of you. It's your choice."

"Why? And why all the stories of old battles? You writing a book or something? Or fixing to charge me with some kind of war crimes? Bastards gave me a general pardon when they let me out of that prison. 'Less you're changing your own rules, this is all just talk."

"Nevertheless, talk we _will_ have."

Mal shrugged and leaned back. He was so tired. Tired to the point of indifference. Dangerously close to the edge--the breaking point. "Have it your way, then. Shoot me full of that drug of yours and have the whole gorram story outta me. But do me a favor and put a bullet in my brain when you're done."

Harken sighed with frustration. "You clearly hate the Alliance and clearly wish to do us harm. Until this point, it appears to me that you had been a misguided soldier caught on the wrong side but merely doing his sworn duty. The battle of Serenity seems to have changed that."

With a dark smile, Mal caught and held Harken's eye. "Yeah. Serenity changed things. Lots of things. And lots of people. Mostly into corpses. But I wasn't on the 'wrong' side before that. I knew which side I was on and I knew why. And if I were to go back and do it over, I'd just try harder to kill as many of you as I damn well could." He leaned forward, jerking with annoyance at the chain that held his left hand tethered. "You think I didn't hate the Alliance when the blood of my friends and neighbors was spilled on the ground on Shadow? When I burned my own home to the ground to keep it out of your hands? Do you know what your 'right' side, your 'winning' side, is capable of? There's an incident that's not in those papers you got there in front of you, from way back in the first years of the war. You wonder why my first officer--Zoe--still flies around with me? And it ain't love or screwing or any of the other 狗屎 you got in your demented mind. Do you know what your people did to her?"

"Tell me," Harken said in a bare whisper.

"Fine," Mal said. "I'll tell you."

Harken seemed a touch shaken when Mal finished telling the story--told in blunt, explicit language, in a way he'd never spoken on it before. Certainly in a way Zoe had never spoken of it. Regarding Mal for a long time, Harken rolled the bottle--his hole card, Mal thought--between his fingers.

"Well... " He cleared his throat. "Well, then... We'll come back to the battle of Serenity in a bit. I think your motivations have been well enough established in any case. Are you ready to admit your involvement in the matter that brings us here together?"

Mal squeezed his eyes closed a moment. The last residual traces of the stimulant were wearing off, leaving him completely exhausted. How long without sleep or food? Was Harken the idiot Mal had took him to be? Or some sort of evil mastermind who knew exactly how, and how long, to wear him down with diversions and probing attacks before striking in force? He thought he knew what Harken was after. Maybe. And he figured Harken was hoping Mal would lead off in that direction, but he sure as hell wouldn't do that.

"Harken, last time we met you took my advice. Let me give you some more... If the fellow you're interrogating can't figure out what in the hell you're trying to ask, it's damned sure he can't tell you what you want to know," Mal said, letting all his annoyance at Harken show through. "Stop dancing around and just get to the point."

Commander Harken gave a genuine, if somewhat frightening smile. "Yes. I do think we may just be on the verge of reaching that point, sergeant. Just may be." His smile dropped and he looked at Mal very coldly. "The first instant you lie, I will have the rest of this drug injected in to you. Do you understand?"

Mal just stared at him.

"Do you know a man named Justin Vergas?"

Mal frowned. Maybe he hadn't figured out what Harken was after. "No," he answered.

"Is that the truth?" Harken asked to the fellow at the console behind Mal.

"No deviation. Reads as truth," the answer came. Again the voice was naggingly, if distantly, familiar.

Harken scowled down at his papers. He listed off a series of other names, none of which Mal recognized. Harken seemed frustrated.

"You drag me in here and go through all this 'cause you made a mistake, Harken?"

He looked up. "No, there's no mistake. Have you ever smuggled Blue Sun property?"

Mal badly wanted to evade that one, or lie, but 狗屎... "Yes," he said. He'd known from the start he'd have to give up things he didn't want, to avoid the greater dangers and areas. Still hurt to do it.

"Have you ever been on a planet called New Horizons?" Harken asked.

And there it was. Mal'd figured it right. New Horizons, a nothing world way the hell out on the border--the border sector Harken patrolled. A small, _petty_ smuggling job that went bad. Mal got caught by the local sheriff holding stolen Blue Sun property. Just a nothing deal that got scary and dangerous when the Feds got involved. It shouldn't have been nothing--an easy drop and hand-off, that turned into the need for a jail break when the sheriff showed up at the meet and arrested Mal. Nothing big, until the Feds turned up on the sheriff's heels, springing their own trap, a sting to catch smugglers, like Mal. Then the sheriff--a former Independent who'd never fired a shot in the war, sprang Mal loose by declaring war on the Alliance again and battling the Alliance garrison, fighting the battle for New Horizons he hadn't managed to fight during the war. _(This bit of blatant exposition is for those of you who haven't read the __Truthsome series__, which was a direct lead-in to this story.)_

Old battles and Blue Sun... Mal let out a long sighing breath, not particular caring how much he was giving away with his reaction. "Yeah. I've been there," he said flatly. Sheriff, or some of his deputies, must have got caught by the Feds and fingered Mal and _Serenity_. He wondered what Harken had done to them fellas before they cracked. The sheriff didn't seem like no pushover. And he had a boatload of his own hates for the Feds based on what happened to his son... damn. The sheriff's son... captured at Serenity Valley and killed in a Fed interrogation shortly after. That's why Harken was so interested in Serenity...

"Um hmm." Harken was watching him closely. "Yet you don't know the name Justin Vergas? Or Joshua Vergas?"

Shaking his head, Mal said, "Nope. Not familiar. So, what, Harken--you got me on some trivial smuggling charge? Deal didn't even go through. My contact didn't make the meet."

"I know that. This isn't about the smuggling, nor even the stolen Blue Sun property, sergeant--though that, and your admission of it, is enough to cost you your ship and quite a few years of your life. No, it's the murder of an entire Alliance garrison, and your connections to the Independents underground organization that brings us here."

Oh, fuck.

The weight of what Harken said hit Mal like a solid blow. "What...? How...?" Mal trailed off. Not even knowing what to ask or say. Confounded.

Harken turned his own kind of deadly. "In the burned out remains of the Alliance outpost, by the bullet-ridden body of the lieutenant in charge was found his data recorder, badly damaged, but we were able to recover the last input. That being a retinal scan." Harken stared at Mal. "Yours."

Definitely not his best day ever.


	17. Chapter 17: Going Through the Motions

**Blue Sun Job:** _Going Through the Motions_  
靑日 Job: _Going Through the Motions _

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck, (all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap  
_

* * *

_

**Chapter 17**

Zoe wasn't troubled by the absolute darkness, nor by being forced to stand in a restrictive position. What gnawed at her was the realization of what the change in her status meant for the captain. They were finished with him, or near to it. Had they given up on getting anything out of him? Or…?

She had no delusions about the limits of endurance, and Zoe knew full well that the captain had more than a few cracks in his defenses that could break if met with a correctly applied assault. Everyone had an edge, and his--hers, anyone's--could be reached. She'd seen Mal at his breaking point more than once; had stood at the cliff's edge right there with him staring into the void. Responsibility and failure were the breaches in the captain's fortifications--the sense of having failed those he felt responsible for, those he thought he could have, should have, saved, whether realistic or not. Now, in this situation, he'd be feeling responsible for their getting caught. Did Commander Harken know what Mal's weak points were? And how to attack them? Zoe sighed. Harken hadn't struck her as the brightest star in the Alliance's constellation, but he'd obviously been called back here for some specific reason. His brief interviews of her, thus far, had failed to impress her. Just the usual hogwash about the others having confessed all.

Having run through every instant of the mission in her head, Zoe still couldn't find the critical mistake. The primary candidates for having ratted them out remained the missing Jayne (Bastard! She'd have spaced him!), and Monty's Fed nephew (But Monty trusts him.). Of course, and she had to give this due consideration, there was the possibility that she and Mal just being who and what they were on that 他妈的ing moon had caused the failure. Clearly they'd been spotted at that hotel…

That hotel… Zoe indulged in a moment of pointless struggle against the bonds that held her secure. The Feds weren't fools--well, they were fools, but insidiously clever, evil fools--they'd be working on Wash too. And Zoe knew too gorram well just exactly which tack they'd be taking with her husband. Stand firm, my love, Zoe tried to send the thought out into the ether to him. Trust me. Trust my love. And hold your ground, she silently implored. Trust me and Mal. We would _never_…

**_Years Earlier…_**

Zoe opened her eyes, doing an immediate and automatic scan of her surroundings. Damn. This wasn't her room. More significantly, it wasn't her bed. Even more significantly, she was bare-assed naked beneath the blanket. Holding still, Zoe reached her senses out, feeling the atmo in the room. Double-damn. There was a warm presence behind her and the soft sounds of a sleeping person breathing.

With a low moan, inspired in part by the dazzling hangover waiting to pounce on her the moment she moved, Zoe slowly and carefully rolled over. Mal slept face down about a foot away from her. A louder moan escaped her.

Mal's eyes opened, then snapped closed as the light hit them. More cautiously, he opened them again, focusing on her after a blank moment.

"Zoe…? Ummm… You…? Here…?" he mumbled.

"Yes sir, here I am," she said, shifting her gaze to the ceiling.

"Did we…?"

"Kinda wondering that same thing myself, sir," she said.

"So… you don't remember if…?" He rolled over, pulling the blanket away as he did.

"No, sir, and apparently neither do you," she answered tersely, snatching the blanket back over her.

He seemed to be taking some time to process that. "You mad at me? For not recollecting something you don't remember yourownself?"

Zoe climbed out of the bed, trying to keep herself covered with the blanket, but he wouldn't let go of his end. Without the covering, or any remaining shred of her dignity, Zoe stood, swaying and clutching her head.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"Didn't know I was in charge of keeping track," he muttered, sounding more than a mite pissy. "Listen, Zoe…" Mal said, "If we were that drunk… I mean, if _I_ was that drunk… I mean… ummm… just technically speaking…. it seems unlikely…"

He stopped talking when she turned around and glared.

Zoe found her clothes, and his, scattered through the common room that separated their two bedrooms, tangled with the loot from their last job. Not a fortune but enough to keep them going for a few weeks.

Rummaging through a small cupboard, she found some hangover tabs, gulping down a couple. At the bedroom door she called, "Here," and tossed him a few. Leaning against the sink, Zoe tried to decide if plain water was bland enough to stay down. Through the grimy window, she stared out at the tangle of streets around the space port. Six months and three systems away from Beta and Delta but still not far enough. No honest--no _legal_--work to be had for former Independents. Restrictions and suspicions (some now fairly earned) followed them everywhere. Still too close in to the Core. Still too deep in Alliance territory. It was like a shroud darkening the brightest of days.

She heard a chair pull out from the table as Mal sat down. He'd managed to find clothes. Glancing down, she groaned, and started to pull on her scattered attire. He didn't look up as she dressed, sitting with his head in his hands.

"Last I recall," he said, "You were pawing all over some scrawny fella in that bar. Don't know what you saw in him."

"I liked his laugh," Zoe said tartly, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil.

"Whatever happened to him?"

Zoe gave a soft snort. "I think you hit him, sir."

He looked up. "Why would I do that?"

Zoe held a bland expression. "I wouldn't care to go visiting your intentions in that area," she said. _Possessive_, she thought. _And protective. Of her. Of himself. And of them._

Mal stared at her. "Well, I'm sorry as hell. If you were fixin' to hump that little bastard, weren't no business of mine to get in the way."

"How very gracious of you, sir." Zoe found two cracked, mismatched cups and poured tea in them. Tea seemed safer than coffee this morning… she glanced out the window, uh… afternoon. Setting a cup in front of Mal, she sat down in the chair opposite him, sipping from her cup. He clutched his tightly, staring unseeing into it.

So this was life, she thought idly. They'd survived so many levels of hell to climb up out of literal graves only to find a whole 'nother kind of hell. One with no meaning, no purpose, no drive. Nothing seemed real. Certainly nothing was right. Stealing for a living, getting blind drunk most nights, they lived together--but not _together_, all appearances this morning to the contrary--in a bindingly close but also curiously distant relationship. Waking in bed with Mal didn't touch the sense of estrangement. But was it estrangement from him? Her? Or life itself? And did she even care?

All the words likely to pass between Zoe and Mal had already been spoken for the day, and it was more than most. If you talked, you had to think, and that led to memories and feelings. She thought she'd had a tight lid on it all, at the prison and in the difficult times immediately after. The nightmares returning were an unsettling surprise, when they moved out into world of the living and more-or-less free. But it was the occasional flashbacks that truly chilled and frightened her, images so abrupt and vivid she could not only see and hear but smell, taste, and almost touch. Odd moments triggered them--the stench coming from a poorly cleaned butcher's shop had caused the last one, the sight of a fortified wall built out of the dead appeared in front of her, stopping her cold in her tracks. Even Mal, walking at her side, had faltered for a split before taking her arm and hurrying her along. Did such things trouble him too? Zoe didn't know, and wouldn't ask, but she had a strong hunch they did. They didn't discuss it.

Too much introspection for a hung-over day following on the heels of a blacked-out night. Had they…? Not that it was such an awful notion. Still, it seemed somehow wrong. Lots seemed wrong. It was just so hard to care, impossible to change. They roamed the edges of a world of dark violence and depravity amongst people lacking in any of the sort of morals or ideals Mal used to embrace. Zoe had known such places before, but had been shielded from their full impact by her daddy and his crew. Mal hadn't. It sometimes struck her as a wrongness how easily he'd taken to this life. But, then, so had she.

"We are some seriously screwed up people," she whispered, not even aware she'd spoken out loud until she saw Mal look up to meet her eyes. He didn't say anything. It wasn't like he could argue the point.

Then she saw the corners of his mouth twitch and realized he hadn't been on the same thought track at all. Instead he'd gone to the dirty joke place. Her own mouth twitched. Ah, well, where inappropriate humor yet lived, there was hope.

**_Now…_**

Zoe leaned her head back against the metal wall. If there was one thing both of the men in her life were masters of, it was inappropriate humor. She sighed. Stand firm, beloved.

* * *

Mal turned fully internal as the impact of what Harken said slammed down on him. Un-他妈的ing-believable. They'd gotten in and out of the tightly secured Blue Sun treasury, snatched a fortune in platinum and--as far as he could tell--gotten away with it clean. But a stupid little nothing smuggling job gone bad at the ass-end of the galaxy was going to cost them all their lives. God had an evil sense of humor. But, then, Mal already knew that. 

Harken was still talking, blazing the trail of their doom, "...found at the scene of the carnage a handgun with all the cartridges spent, covered in your fingerprints..." Mal's pistol... someone, one side or the other, must have made use if it. "...at the jail, your smuggling contact found dead, along with two murdered Alliance troopers. A transmitter matching the type found on your ship, with your prints on it as well as partials of your pilot. Then there's the stolen Blue Sun property... the case bearing both your fingerprints as well as those of your first officer. And on the Blue Sun property itself, the prints of your young mechanic..."

Gads... all of them, all of them tied in to the killings of the Alliance garrison on New Horizons. Every damnone save for Jayne. Huh? Had he really ratted them out? Then why for this and not the Blue Sun robbery? Zoe, Wash, Kaylee... An abrupt, uncontrollable vision sizzled through his mind. Sleep-deprived hallucination? Or flashback? He couldn't tell, but as vividly as if he was still there, he saw one of his young soldiers at the prison... standing on the gallows. She was just a young thing, scarcely more than a girl. She'd been under his command there at Serenity, at the end. Now, she'd been caught killing a guard, and he was helpless to save her. Again. Trying so hard to be brave even as tears welled up in her eyes. The executioner brushed aside her brown hair to tighten the noose...

Mal almost stopped breathing. She looked just like Kaylee.

This was it, then. This was the edge of the cliff. The breaking point. Mal recognized it with an odd sense of distance even as he stared into the depths. He'd do, or say, anything Harken wanted if only it would take away the image of lil' Kaylee on a gallows... no more… no more little girls lost…

Bizarrely, it was Commander Harken who threw him the thread to pull back from the brink. Just a millimeter at first, but back from the plunge. It was the impulse to smart-ass-ness Harken inspired that caused Mal to pull back. Did Harken realize he had him and then went just a fraction too far?

"...still fighting the same battles, sergeant. Only those soldiers you murdered..."

The echo of Harken's accusation from their first encounter suddenly struck Mal as absurdly, if inappropriately, comical. First Harken had credited Mal with the work of Reavers. He gotten a promotion, in Harken's world at least, from Reaver to mere mass murderer.

"Something amusing here, sergeant?" Harken demanded, his face reddening with anger.

Mal gave a bitter-tinged laugh. "You just got this habit of accusing me of murder. You ain't been right a once, yet you keep on trying. I did not murder any of those in that garrison. Not me nor any of mine."

"I'm not wrong," Harken said coldly. "The evidence against you is overwhelming."

"Yeah?" Mal jerked at the chain holding his left hand, displaying the clip attached to his finger. "You notice that lie detector of yours didn't so much as twitch when I said that? Huh? I ain't lying. You're wrong." He leaned forward, holding Harken's eye. "I didn't fire a shot on that world. We didn't murder your gorram garrison."

Harken glared at him. "I don't believe you."

"So don't," Mal said, stepping even further back onto steady, stable ground. "Don't believe me. Believe your own 他妈的 lie detector. That fella behind me didn't make a peep when I said what I said. I ain't lying. I didn't murder those soldiers."

A slow, dangerous smile spread over Harken's face, stopping before it reached his eyes, which glittered cold and deadly. He spoke one word that spread the chill into Mal. "Semantics." Now that million credit word Mal knew. Gorramit.

Shuffling through his papers, Harken extracted a page which, near as Mal could tell, he read and reread at least three times before looking back up.

"How many Alliance solders did you murder in the Shadow revolt?" Harken asked but didn't wait for an answer. "None. That's what you said, correct? But when asked how many you _killed_, the answer changed to 'three'. You don't see the killing of Alliance soldiers as murder, do you Sergeant Reynolds? You see it as a continuation of the war. Battles. You didn't let it end, so we will end it for you."

Carefully, Mal said, "Listen to your lie detector, Harken... That Fed lieutenant busted in right on the heels of the sheriff and arrested me. That's how my retinal scan ended up in his gadget. You say you found a gun of mine there... well enough. My gun got took from me. I don't know whose hands it ended up in, but I did not fire it. Not once. Not at nobody. All right, you got me on the smuggling. I'll admit to that. I didn't know it was stolen property--or that it was Blue Sun's merchandise--until that lieutenant of yours showed me the markings. But, hell, you want to nail me for that, fine. I'll confess to that too. But me. Just me. You leave the others out of this."

**_Years Earlier..._**

Night had long since arrived when Zoe and Mal ventured out into the streets and alleys. They sought... what? A nice spot of violence. Some opportunity for crime. Make some contacts, perhaps. Or maybe just to drink themselves into oblivion so they wouldn't have to think about the date.

Passing a table with three men, three glasses, and four bottles, they suddenly froze. Wearing what were as clearly leftover uniforms as what Zoe and Mal wore, lacking only the insignia, sat soldiers... ex-soldiers. Only these were Alliance uniforms they wore. Once the enemy, always the enemy. Zoe slid her gaze over them. When they clinked their glasses together the word the center one spoke was "Serenity."

Zoe laid a restraining hand on Mal's arm as he glared down at the trio. The looks that passed between them required no words for the understanding to be evident. They'd all been there. The surprise came in the center Fed's next words. Waving his arm toward the empty chairs, he said, "Join us." He motioned for the bartender to bring more glasses.

The greater surprise was that Mal sat down, though his eyes never strayed from the Fed. Glancing around the bar to measure the odds they'd be facing when the brawl broke out, Zoe slid onto the chair beside him.

The Fed in the center, apparently the senior of the three, filled five glasses, nudging two toward Zoe and Mal. The three Feds raised their glasses.

"Whatcha drinkin' to?" Mal asked in a deceptively calm tone.

"Them that never left," the Fed in the center said quietly, his eyes taking on a haunted look that puzzled Zoe. These were the winners.

"From which side?" Mal's tone was still even, but his eyes were dangerous.

The Fed sighed. "Don't matter. Them that never left," he repeated raising his glass a touch higher.

"Living or dead," the smaller fellow to their right added in a hollow whisper.

Mal held a still moment, then touched his glass to theirs, Zoe following a split later, the five glasses meeting with a clink.

All downed the liquor. Two more rounds were poured and drank without words spoken, only the sound of the glasses clinking together. On the third, the fellow to their right crumpled into sobs. No one looked over at him.

After a moment, the senior of the Fed ex-soldiers said, "Used to be four of us. Last year this day Private Ytteroy killed himself."

"Mmmm." Mal made a sound of acknowledgement. Not sympathy, just acknowledgement. Zoe could see him thinking, remembering, just as she strove not to. "Last year this day we were still in one of your prisons," he said, "watching one of ours, a young gal, get hanged." The Fed made the same sound of no-sympathy acknowledgement.

The first bottle emptied. Half way through the second, Zoe said in a puzzled tone, "You won."

The Fed focused on her. He scoffed softly. "Yeah. We won." He raised another glass.

In the middle of the third bottle the one to their left, who hadn't yet said a word, had barely even looked up, whispered, "Hundreds of thousands of dead, rotting winners…" He put his head down and quietly passed out. The sobbing chap had long since curled up beneath the table, dead or passed out, no one bothered to check.

As the remaining Fed poured the last drops out of the third bottle, Mal asked, "You been back there?"

Hand wavering as he raised his glass toward the center of the table again, the Fed said, "Every damned night." He gulped down the liquor, glass slamming hard down to the table. Suddenly he stared, transfixed, at something between Zoe and Mal. They both cautiously glanced around. There was nothing there. "Never leave," the Fed whispered, then passed out.

Zoe and Mal stared at him for a long moment.

"Huh," Mal said. Profound comment, Zoe thought.

Standing, Mal swayed. Zoe stood up and caught him, either holding him up or counterbalancing her own rather serious list. With drunken wavering, they gave their passed-out Fed comrades friendly pats on the backs. Mal snatched up the last unopened bottle and they headed back out into the night.

In an alley a short distance away, they extracted the cash from the Feds' wallets before tossing them in the trash.

"Now what?" Zoe asked.

Mal shrugged, then clutched at the wall to keep from falling over. "I feel a need for a quiet drink somewhere. Somewhere Fed-less." He staggered back toward the street.

Zoe followed. "Whatcha suppose he meant by 'never leave'?"

Mal glanced at her. "Don't mean nothing."

**_Now…_**

"Rather than argue the semantic differences between 'kill' and 'murder'," Harken said, "Let's move on to another area."

Mal groaned. "You know, I am taking a powerful dislike to you, Harken. I gave you a confession--smuggling and theft. What the hell else more do you want?"

Harken shook his head grimly. "Everything. You'll tell me everything you know about the Independent's underground organization. Names. Locations. Recognition codes. Everything" Harken's fingers twitched purposefully at the vial sitting in front of him, a clear threat.

"There ain't no…" Mal stopped. The rest of that sentence would sure as certain trip that lie detector, leading to him being held down and that drug shot into him, maybe making him blurt out all sorts of things he'd rather not. "There ain't no single organization," he said carefully. "Just scattered bunches of blowhards who ain't managed to leave their grudges behind as good as me."

The lie detector guy almost laughed out loud, Mal could hear him turn the sound into a strangled cough. "Uh," the voice behind Mal said. "I think it was the part about him leaving grudges behind that gave the reaction."

"Um hmm." Harken stared at Mal. "I'll let that stretching of the truth go as poetic license. You were quite clear in your dissertation yesterday as to what you think of the Alliance and your lingering resentments of us."

Oh, yeah, Mal thought. When he'd let that truth drug have full rein and told them just exactly what he thought of them and their government. Fun as it had been at the time, in retrospect maybe he should have been a little less forthright on that point.

Harken shuffled through his papers again. "So… we've been backtracking you and your ship and found a recent interesting layover on a world called 'Three Hills'. Do you recall that?"

"Yes," Mal said. Uh, oh. Danger warnings flashed in his head. Their meet with Monty to arrange the Blue Sun job. And the Shepherd acquiring the counteragent to the truth drug. 我的妈 _(trans: mother-of-god!)_. Mal hadn't even worried on the preacher before. The burst of adrenaline the jab of fear caused helped him become more alert, more focused.

"Your ship downed near a village where, apparently, you had no business, legal or illegal, to conduct. Why were you there?" Harken asked.

Mal shrugged. "Our Shepherd wanted to stop off at some church place there."

"Yes. But you and your first mate apparently took a side trip. A pair matching your descriptions--which in combination are fairly distinctive--were reported by a police patrol as having been in a bar on the far side of that world. A bar that is a known underground meeting place. What were you doing there?"

Again, he and Zoe--Jayne not tied in to them. "Nothing. Just meeting a client."

"Who?"

"Couldn't say." Absolutely wouldn't say.

"Don't play the semantics game again. Who did you meet there?" Harken insisted.

"Like I said, a client. We arranged a hand-off load of cargo. Not stolen property, as far as I know. Just some entrepreneur ducking local tariffs and taxes." Utter truth, as far as it went.

"Again you are playing word games. Answer yes or no: Do you know the name of the person you and your first officer met in that bar?"

Trapped by Harken's phrasing, Mal answered, "No." A flat lie. He held his breath. Behind him, the lie detector guy…

Nothing. Huh…

Huh!

Was he finally free of that gorram device?

Harken went round and round on the point, and several surrounding it. Mal cautiously told lie after lie to divert the trail around and away from Monty, his ship, and his crew. Throughout, the fella at the lie detector never made a sound, backing Mal's story with his silence. Mal was starting to feel kinda good again, when…

"Have you ever had any dealings with an underground organization?"

"No."

"That's a lie."

What!

Before the guards could stop him, Mal twisted around to get a glimpse of the fellow at the console behind him. 他妈的ing familiar voice, indeed. And a familiar gorram face bent over and near hidden by his Fed hat. Monty's gorram nephew. No wonder the voice was so distantly familiar. He hadn't spoken a word to the boy since the war years, a good ten years past, and had only seen glimpses of his face in the night during the Blue Sun job. 狗屎. If he had or hadn't ratted them out, he sure as hell was here just to make sure Mal didn't rat out his uncle Monty. Never mind what happened to Mal and his own crew.

"I told you, Sergeant Reynolds, that the first instant you lied…" Harken handed the vial to his aide. Mal gave a brief, futile struggle against the grip in which the guards held him.

As the aide filled a syringe, Mal tried to think fast. The somewhat panicky fear layered on top of everything else didn't help. Had he laid in enough diversionary groundwork to keep them all from hanging for that Fed garrison? The underground…他妈的. He and Zoe had told Jayne the truth. It wasn't them. But they knew some, had some dealings, had some connections… He couldn't give up those people. Couldn't.

Wincing as the needle bit into his arm, Mal tried to come up with a diversion. A tale he could tell and stick to--truthfully--that would keep him from ratting out, albeit unwilling, all those others. He didn't know if the drug's counteragent would still work; still give him a measure of control and resistance. He gorram well had to try and try hard. But it was with a chill, Mal realized the only tale he think of to tell that might divert Harken would also sell out the one person in the 'verse who meant the most to him. Zoe.


	18. Chapter 18: Never Leave

**Blue Sun Job:** _Never Leave_  
靑日 Job: _Never Leave_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap _

* * *

_

**Chapter 19**

Mal looked out at the starfield, deep into the heart of the Black. It was good to be back, to be home. It had been a close one. But, of course, they got away… survived… pulled off the damned heroic last minute rescue… He didn't hear the footsteps, but did feel the presence arrive behind him, stepping into her place beside him. With a hint of a smile, he let the sense of her lap over him like waves.

"How'd you find me here?" he asked softly.

"If I was blind, I would see you," Zoe answered, her hand reaching up to lightly touch his arm.

"Stay with me," he whispered.

"Forever," she said. "That's the whole point. I'll never leave." Zoe looked up at him with her gentle, reassuring smile. "Not even if you kill me."

Mal stared out into the Black, puzzled. Why did she say that? That was disturbing. "Never leave," he echoed faintly. He felt the other presence around him, surrounding him. "_Serenity?_" Zoe had laughed when he first told her the name. He didn't get the joke, just knew the name was right.

"No. Never leave. Serenity," she said, her voice low and musical, yet somehow he felt the dark presence within, the phantom that wouldn't die swirling up, surging to get out, to conquer him.

"Never leave," he repeated, bewildered. He looked at Zoe. Wrong colors. Purple didn't suit her.

"We'll never leave," the three presences said. "Not even if you kill us."

Mal blinked back the blackness and wished he could retreat again. Lights too bright. Sounds sharp and painful. Colors… all wrong. Scary wrong. He closed his eyes again and tried to go away, but they wouldn't let him. This was hell.

No, this could be fought. This wasn't hell.

He must have said it out loud for a gratingly familiar voice answered. "Isn't it? What is hell but the total absence of hope?"

"Oh, God…" Mal moaned. Not a name he'd said in years, unless it was to take it in vain.

"Do you believe in God, Sergeant Reynolds?" the voice asked. The questioning tone probed at him, demanding an answer.

"I believe in Satan," he muttered. "All his works and all your ways." They lifted his head and forced him to swallow something.

Harken--yeah, that was the devil's name--Harken sounded vaguely amused. "Ah, the words of an old Christian creed. Never took you for the religious sort, sergeant, even though you had a Shepherd onboard. Many surprises await, I suppose. But you twisted those words a bit. That doesn't surprise me."

The floor became hard and cold beneath him. When had they put him on the floor? How long…? The lapping swells slowed and flattened into a tideless sea. Mal wanted to melt away into the deck plating, but Harken said, "Get him up," and the cold hardness stayed with him as the MPs lifted him.

"You have no hope, Sergeant Reynolds," Harken said in a tone that sounded like he was making it an order. "The war's over. Your fight is ended. It's time to lay down arms and surrender. Then you can rest."

Mal almost laughed. Ooooh… can you tell me which word there you shouldn't have said, Harken? Which word just automatically brings back the stubborn? A low moan, half-whimper, was all that escaped him as he slumped down in the chair while the guards again cuffed one hand down, attaching the clip to his finger.

"Strange readings," the voice behind Mal said. Oh, yeah… Monty's 他妈的 gorram bastard betraying piece of 狗屎 Fed nephew. "He's all over the place."

"Why?" Harken asked, looking past Mal.

"Too many drugs still in his system, I suppose, Commander," Monty's nephew said. "Sedative, stimulant, whatever this stuff is… plus the physiological effects of stress and sleep deprivation all working against each other. I don't know if I'll get an accurate read." Mal considered ratting him out. That could be fun. But that would only sell out Monty and give the Feds the Blue Sun job and his entire crew… Yeah… okay, he was starting to remember things.

Harken gave a small shake of his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm told this drug is foolproof."

Mal grinned. "Then it's good they found a fool to use it."

Harken scowled. "No more stray comments, sergeant. Just answer the questions you're asked."

"Hey, just telling the truth," Mal said blurrily. "Kinda feeling a need to…" He trailed off. Truth… "Say, Commander, I ever tell you I think you're an idiot?"

"Shut-up, sergeant."

" 's the gawdshonest truth. Drooling monkey son of a…" he lost his focus, but heard a couple of the guards suppress coughs.

"Sergeant Reynolds…"

"And, hey--how'd you like getting the blood of that man of yours splashed across your face. Talk about religious experiences. Kinda like a baptism, huh?"

"Sergeant…" Harken's voice grew terse.

"Baptized into bloody reality. Bloodbath's not just an expression, you know… Ow!" Mal glared up at the MP, surprised to see the ape actually looked a little apologetic. Probably wanted to hear Mal call his boss more names.

"Sergeant Reynolds. Answer my questions. Did you have anything to do with the deaths of the Alliance garrison on New Horizons?" Harken's voice drove into Mal, requiring he answer.

"Don't know," he answered too quickly. That wasn't a good answer. "Didn't shoot 'em. Didn't murder 'em. Didn't even kill 'em… I think…" Mal squinted. There was something about this he wanted to avoid. What was it? Oh… fire. Flying over in _Serenity_ dumping flaming fuel down on the garrison's building. Might have killed a few of 'em doing that. Might could be. Couldn't say for a sure as certain truth, though. _Serenity_ providing air support. Serenity… air support… "Air support's the thing. Can't go amiss with good air support. Serenity…" Mal sensed a wrongness in his answer and stopped.

"What about _Serenity_ and air support?" Harken asked harshly.

Which Serenity did Harken mean? "Didn't have no air support. They pulled back. Too hot. Left us… just left us…" Mal said, puzzled as to why he was talking about that. Didn't like talking about it. Tried hard not to think about it. Not never.

Harken made a small sound. "You're talking about the battle of Serenity. You refused to talk about it before. Why'd you name your ship after it?"

Mal shook his head, not seeing the interrogation room, only the fire pouring down from the sky. "Never leave…" he whispered. Never understood that before, but it was a truth. Huh. That's why Zoe laughed when he told her the name of the ship. She understood it. Understood it from way back.

"What happened at Serenity Valley?" Harken insisted.

Back in the darkness, in the crashing, crushing moment of abject defeat that never ends, Mal said, "Nothin'. Just nothin'. Everything taken, lost, gone, and just nothin' left behind." With an effort, Mal shook himself clear of the memory. A small ripple across the flat, dead sea--a drop of control yet remaining him. He focused on Harken. "You never were in a battle on the ground, were you?"

"No. I was in the space forces. Served on a ship, like this, throughout the war," Harken said, staring at Mal intently.

Shaking his head, Mal said, "If you weren't there, you can't understand."

"Mmmm…" Harken said, looking down to shuffle through his papers. "We'll get back to that. Let's move on to more pertinent territory. Are the names Justin and Joshua Vergas familiar to you?"

"Yes," Mal answered quickly. Felt oddly good to be able to blurt out a simple truth. Feeling good was a good… good feeling… good thing.

Harken went on point. It amused Mal. Fella looked like a setter out duck huntin'. "How do you know those names?"

Now that was a purely stupid question. "You said 'em," Mal answered. "Yesterday." He cocked his head, considering. Was that right? "Was it yesterday? I recall it getting dark but I but I don't recall sleeping. Yesterday?"

With an exasperated sigh, Harken said, "Do you know the names from anywhere else?"

"No."

Harken collapsed a touch and shuffled his papers again. "All right… Do you know the name of the sheriff from New Horizons--where you were arrested for smuggling--or the name of his son who was at Serenity Valley?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Mal shrugged. "Don't much ask for names in my line of work. Never did get the sheriff's name. And there was lots of folks at Serenity. Didn't get all their names neither."

Harken stared at him. "The sheriff and his men were, or are, part of an Independent underground cell." He looked down at his papers again. "I suppose I have to consider the possibility of a lack of overt complicity on your part in the destruction of that garrison, given your answers to questioning on that matter."

Did that mean they were off the hook for that? Or out of the noose? "Played the sheriff," Mal said distractedly, "to get him to let me go. His boy got killed by the gorram Feds after Hera in one'a them no-questions just lots-of-hitting 'interrogations'." Chuckling darkly, Mal added, "I 'most broke the jaw of one of them sumbitches. 'Course they almost killed me..."

"Those things didn't happen," Harken said harshly, paging rapidly through his paperwork. "Prisoners rescued at Hera were treated with due consideration."

"Yeah," Mal said with a twitch of a grin. "And Reavers ain't real, neither." Argh! Irony ain't lying, shouldn't make that crawly wrong feeling.

Caught up in his internal struggles, Mal missed most of what passed between Harken and Monty's nephew. Something about the notion that the truth and lying caused different physiological reactions. The lie detector gadget only read the reaction but it 'peared like creepy suit guy's truth drug forced the reaction. Mal could'a told 'em that if they asked. Hell, _would_ have told 'em that, wouldn't have had no choice if they threw the question at him fast enough and sharp enough. It was like an electric shock making muscles jerk. Even if you knew it was coming, you couldn't stop it.

Turning back to Mal, Harken said, "I know there's another sort of connection you let slip that I must have information on. I already know the answer, but given your current compliant condition… Have you ever had any dealings with an anti-Alliance underground organization?"

"Yes," Mal said. Ooooh… That was… oh 狗屎! He closed his eyes, remembering. Concentrate. Fight. Need the diversion. Cover fire. Insulation from the shock. Oh, Zoe… I'm sorry as hell…

Harken was back on point. More werewolf-like than setter-like this time. Smelled blood. Mal sighed and knew he was showing Harken way too much, but couldn't help it. End of the line. Had to play the numbers game. Those boys didn't play around--too much at stake. If he sold out any portion of any underground unit he'd be costing the lives of his entire crew anyhow. That's why Zoe had warned Jayne off of those places, or of looking too close at anything he saw, or thought he saw. Weren't just loyalty to old comrades (some… well, all right… a lot), or clinging to a lost dream (okay, maybe a bit), it was ice cold practical-ass survival (and wasn't that always the bottom line). Sacrifice himself, okay, his price to pay… but couldn't do it without taking Zoe down too. 他妈的.

"You don't want to tell me about it, do you sergeant?" Harken asked in a mild tone, staring hard at him.

Mal scoffed softly. "Sure don't." Damn. This truthsome business had some real downsides to it.

"You're very heavily involved in the anti-Alliance underground organizations, aren't you?" Harken still sounded mild.

Shaking his head, Mal said, "No."

Harken scowled, looked past Mal. "Is he telling the truth?"

"Yes. Near as I can tell," Monty's nephew answered. "He reacts most strongly to anything involving Serenity, but those answers don't read the same as lies do--more just a… I'd have to say a resistance reaction. Not lying, but resisting revealing more. The faster he answers, the more even the reaction."

While they talked, Mal slid down a little lower in his chair, trying to rest his head on the seatback. He closed his eyes and drifted. Wasn't doing too good at the controlling part. Wasn't managing to lie at all. So humped, and not in the fun way. With a shiver he realized he had to feed the story out willingly, at his own pace, to control the flow of info, rather than letting Harken jerk it out of him bit by bit, maybe--probably--getting more than he was willing to give. The only question was timing--when to let go. Harken had him at the edge once before, couldn't let it go back that far again.

"Sergeant Reynolds!" That voice was becoming purely tiresome.

"Ow!" Mal glared up at the guard again. "Just leave me the 他妈的 alone, Harken. You ain't gotten 狗屎 out of me so far 'cause you've been just dead-ass wrong each and every step of the way. Just give it up."

"A fine show of bravado, sergeant," Harken said with a smarmy smile. "Or desperation. You know, however--and you are fully aware I'm speaking the absolute truth here--that if you don't give me the information I'm after I will have to start working harder on your colleagues. Your first officer is being prepped for intensive interrogation right now. I'm out of this entertaining drug you're finding so troublesome so when I go about extracting information from her, my methods will undoubtedly be far more crude. I imagine you know a thing or two about torture. From the war? A lot of ugly things went on. I haven't forgotten that tale you told about questioning one of our scouts. Did that along with your first mate. I don't doubt she has a high level of resistance, though. And I don't doubt you left some details out of that story. Then there's that young mechanic of yours, Miss Frye, I wonder how much she could withstand." He stared hard at Mal. "Now you have to choose."

Mal smiled and saw that reaction confused Harken. What did Harken know? Mal hadn't spent any longer making his choice than Zoe once had.

"Ask your questions, Harken," he said in a flat tone of surrender.

* * *

"Will you stop pacing and just sit still!" Inara glared up at Jayne. 

"Can't help it," he grumbled. "This place gives me the uncomfortables."

"You're like having a child along. Stop that!" she snapped. "Do you have to touch and smell of everything?"

"I don't…"

"Yes, you do."

"Well, I…"

"Just sit down and try to look… civilized. Everything is going according to plan."

"Yeah. And our plans always go so smooth."

* * *

"Oh! Shepherd Book!" Try though she may to be brave and cool (at least when the gorram Feds were looking), the sight of the warmly smiling face started tears running down Kaylee's face. She hadn't seen anyone for days; didn't know what was going on with any of the others. The worry was wearing a hole in her heart. 

"There, there, child," the Shepherd said, sitting down by her. He patted her hand soothingly.

"Have you seen the cap'n? Or any of the others?" Kaylee asked.

"No," the Shepherd answered. "The only one they've let me see so far is you. But don't worry. Everything will be all right."

Kaylee studied him. "Will it?"

The flicker of doubt across the Shepherd's face came and went quickly, but it was enough to unsettle her. "I'm praying it will," Book said quietly.

"I don't think praying's gonna be enough," Kaylee said.

The Shepherd's smile returned, with it--or was Kaylee imagining it--a twinkle in his eye. "I know," he said.

* * *

It was Zoe's fault, in a way. Until the night they'd spent talking in that hotel room bed, Mal hadn't known the details of how they'd gotten off Beta after robbing the prison guard's payroll. That was the first time they'd had dealings with the underground, and the only time he could tell about safely, because he truly did not know the details of the contacts and connections and doubted if, after all these years, anything Zoe knew remained valid. Even still, every word was wrenched out of him in a long, draining process as he struggled to control the crux of the matter. Couldn't give in until he'd worn Harken down--and the very brazen absurdity of that notion made him want to laugh. Who was wearing who down? 

"But, _why_ don't you remember how you got on the shuttle off Beta?" Harken demanded, revising his phrasing for the umpteenth time to try to yank the information out of Mal.

"I was drugged," he answered.

A frustrated sigh from Harken. "Why were you drugged?"

"Zoe said it would make me feel better." Mal paused, closing his eyes as he delved into his own contorted memories of the time, rather than details Zoe had told him later.

"Were you sick?" Harken asked.

"No… well, yes, but no." Mal struggled with the truth of the matter. Turned out pure truthsomeness was a tricky business. Full of twists and cul de sacs and things not looking the same from one side as another. Curious, it was. It was also more than weird to have these impulses firing a barrage after barrage in his head. He wanted to lie but even the thought of doing so created a barbed barricade he couldn't breach. The impulse to speak quickly and truthfully created a smooth, tranquil sensation within. With the part he still held control over--whether through stubborn will or residual effects of the counteragent, or a little of both--Mal recognized that the very life he'd led, where 'smooth' and 'tranquil' were alien, and struggle was the norm, helped him resist blurting out as much as he could have, as much as he wanted to. It was devilishly hard to hold focus. So easy to give in, to drift...

"No, don't hit him again," Harken snapped. Mal saw the guard drop his hand. "It doesn't seem to help." Mal watched with disinterest as Harken shuffled though his papers again and again. "Should have just hanged him on the New Horizon's evidence and never minded all this other 狗屎," Harken muttered. "Never using a gorram drug like this again…" He looked up sternly at Mal, the frustration clear on his face.

Harken ran his hand through his hair as he lifted one paper. He looked back up at Mal. "You had a string of minor run-ins with the law on Beta about seven years ago. Fairly understandable why you left that world, why you wanted to leave. You were being harassed by the local authorities--even I can see the pattern. The question is of the timing--why you made the effort, or rather, why your first officer made the effort, of contacting the underground organization at that specific time. This seems to have taken place shortly after a robbery for which you were under suspicion, though apparently the authorities had no evidence against you save that you were a newly released ex-Independent soldier. That, and the suggestion that one of the robbery participants had been shot. I think I see why you are trying so hard to steer clear of this area of questioning..."

Mal stared at Harken. So worn-out. He drifted back to the night spent with Zoe talking about the past. Didn't do that much. Talk. Sure as hell not much of the cuddling bit. Not since Shadow. Prettiest danged gal... and that weren't so much cuddling as just good, enthusiastic screwing. Just dumb kids. Guess they both saw that the same way. Leastwise, way back then. Couldn't say about now. Sure hadn't gone back to being like that together, not after the war ended. Well, odd drunken nights with question marks and uncomfortables later, but nothing like it had been. Better not to do such like at all. Brought up bad old memories of how those romps on Shadow had turned into trouble. But they hadn't talked on that since they met up again when Mal got Zoe out of that Alliance complex. Still never had. Nope. They'd held together to ease away the nightmares by talking about good times they shared. Not too damned many of those between Serenity and _Serenity_. That prison guard's payroll robbery had been pure and utter goodness. So he'd thought. Didn't recollect it the same way as Zoe had. Wasn't that just the way of it. Different folks saw things different ways. He recollected it as a good strike back at the sumbitches who'd tormented them for better'n two years. Finishing one damned battle with a win. She had a whole 'nother set of recollections--getting hunted and chased while she tried to keep him from dying of a gunshot wound. No wonder she'd gotten ahold of them underground fellas in that blackout zone. Zoe didn't trust them underground boys, didn't like 'em. Didn't want nothing more to do with them, 'cept she was desperate and needed their help, but just that once. Remember that point. _Just that once_. No names. Dressed up as Feds with fake papers and I.D.s to get on a shuttle out. He remembered that shuttle. Zoe as a Fed. Scary vision. Thought it was the prison guards taking him back. Wasn't. Robbed those bastards but good, him and Zoe. Got away clean. Not so clean. That's what she said, wasn't it? All real fuzzy to him, drifting in and out of the blackness like he'd been. Kinda like now…

He blinked. It was real quiet in the interrogation room. Harken stared at him with an odd--well, odder--expression. Uh, oh…

"Ummm… I say any of that out loud?" Mal asked. He knew damned well he had. The throw-himself-on-the-grenade 他妈的ing diversion. Threw Zoe on it too, though. But Kaylee, Wash, the Shepherd, Jayne, the two he tried not to think about… hopefully they were out in the clear. His price to pay. But not just his.

Harken nodded slowly. "Yes. You did."

Mal moaned. "What did I say?" Had to play it out. Had to play out that he'd spoken with an absolutely unwilling lack of control. Throw as much rambling flak in the mix as he could.

Did Harken seem regretful? "Among other things--mainly the somewhat strange relationship with your first officer--you just confessed to a robbery. And to the very underground connection we'd been discussing."

"Yeah… I didn't really want to do that," Mal said. There was an absolute truth.

"I know you didn't. That's the point of this session we've been having," Harken said mildly, sounding curiously more sympathetic than gloatingly victorious. "To take you to the point of no return. I think we've arrived."

"We done then?" Mal asked.

"I'm afraid not." Harken sighed. "You still have to tell me about the underground."

Mal looked away. "Ain't no more I can tell you." Now that was pure truthsome semantics. "It's not us. Just not. Still ain't forgiven 'em for what they did there, at the end. At Hera..."

"At Serenity Valley?" Harken asked quietly but insistently. "The Alliance? What the Alliance did?"

Mal shook his head. "No. Our side. What the Independents command did. Be-他妈的ing-trayed us. You really want to know? All right…"

It was easier than he'd thought it would be, telling the story of Serenity. He'd heard Zoe tell bits of it before, though he'd tried to ignore it--pretend like he wasn't listening, or hadn't heard. Had tried not to hear, not even think about it. But he found himself using her words to describe what it was like to take a hill and fortify it with walls of bodies… "Can you imagine piling up the bodies of soldiers--of friends--to build a wall 'cause you got no cover?" "...you'd slip in it half the time, find out bloodbath is not just a figure of speech." Maybe it was the drugs, or maybe it was finally letting himself look into the dark place he held locked off within. He felt as though he stood at a distance, describing something that had happened to someone else and he was only an observer. Tactics, troop movements, desperation actions, taking down the skiff. "…not coming… too hot…" the first moment of betrayal. "…to lay down arms…" Disbelief as fire rained down. Bendis killed. Didn't even notice. Not too pretty for God to kill. Then the week that followed. The purest hell on earth. Hell is the substance, the tactile proof of despair. They didn't come back for them. "_Both sides_ left us there…" The ones they trusted, the ones they fought for, didn't come back for them. They were his people. His responsibility. He was helpless to save them. The dying… four hundred left… three hundred… two left… just two… just him and Zoe. "Whose colors are they flying?" His own words, "Don't matter none. One side nor t'other... ain't no difference..."

"…never leave," he concluded.

Mal stopped. Harken stared down at the tabletop. Silent a long time. The MPs moved uneasily. They were too young to have fought in the war--had grown up on the stories of glory and Unification. What glory in walls of the dead or honor in a long slow dying after being abandoned--left behind--by your own?

Harken took a deep breath, shuffled his papers. Glanced up at Mal, then back to his papers. "There's still the matter of…" He trailed off with a sigh. Tersely, Harken said, "All right. That's enough." He looked past Mal. "You can shut down your device. We're done." To the MPs, "Take him to the brig. See to it he's tended and fed, then left alone."

That sounded like the best idea Mal had heard in a long time.

As the guards hauled him up, Harken recited a familiar phrase, "You're bound by law on charges of..." he hesitated and Mal saw him give an almost bewildered glance at his piles of papers. "Charges of... well, lots of things. We'll sort it out later." Harken gave a jerk of his head. "Take him out."

The MPs led Mal toward the door, stopping when Harken added one more thing. "Sergeant," he said, low. Mal focused on him with an effort. Standing brought back the swelling waves of black. Harken made a pyramid of his fingers and rested his forehead on them. "The search scans we do on prisoners are very thorough," Harken said. Mal squinted at him as he neared and receded and neared again. Commander Harken looked up, meeting his eyes. "Did you know she's pregnant?" Who? "Not even a week. Interesting timing. Doesn't even know it herself."

What? Who? The cell door slammed closed behind him. Mal stared at the blank gray surface, baffled. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. That was unsettling. Harken had been saying something... What?


	19. Chapter 19: The Bottom

**Blue Sun Job:** _The Bottom_  
靑日 Job: _The Bottom _

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap/sh-t _

* * *

_

**Chapter 19**

Mal collapsed on the hard bench that passed for a bed. He felt awful just about every way imaginable. Had to count as a purely crappy day when getting locked in the brig of an Alliance cruiser ranked as its happiest moment. But--hey!--still didn't make his top ten list of worst days ever. And didn't that just say something?

He rubbed his face with his hands. Just that simple thing smacked a big damned dose of 'context' on his situation--having both hands free… He'd been restrained, cuffed, and guarded with intensity since the moment he last walked aboard _Serenity_. Mal let out a short sigh. Harken really did think he was that damned dangerous. That's why they were being so strict in the way they handled him. They thought Mal could and would take out an entire Alliance garrison, among other things. Didn't know… didn't know if he'd managed to talk, divert, or babble his way out of that fix. Or how many others he'd stumbled into in the process. Too many gaping black holes in his recollections of the proceedings. The only sure-on certainty was they wouldn't be letting him go any time soon.

Dropping his hands, he stared dismally down. Red. They'd taken his clothes away, replacing them with a bright red t-shirt and trousers. Prison-wear. Creepifying bit of 他妈的 reality. Red… not Independent's red. Danger warning red. Branded again.

How had he come to this point? Was it him? Something about him? In him? Something that put him permanently out of joint with the rest of the 'verse? Others managed to live with the Alliance, all its works and all its ways. Embraced and admired it, even. Advocated it. Encouraged it. Forced it down the gorram throats of those who… Maybe it was him.

Mal looked at the tray of food they'd left. Same tasteless 狗屎 the Alliance always fed prisoners. Still, didn't pay to be fussy. Especially when you had no choice. Reaching toward the tray, Mal froze. A creeping trail of red oozed out from the gray lumps. _Bloodbath's not just a figure of speech._ The gray shifted into crisped, blackened flesh. Now that was just not right. Mal pulled his hand back and stared. He was perfectly aware at an entirely conscious level it was just an hallucination. Just. He still wasn't keen to tangle with it. If this was what a lack of sleep brought it didn't bode well for the truly bleak places sleeping was like to take him.

Stretching out on the bench, Mal laid face down, burying his face in his arms to block the too-sharp light. You can force good dreams if you work at it, if you concentrate hard enough, if you lie to yourself… The barbed barricade snapped up. Rutting drugs still barraging his system wouldn't let him lie even to himself.

* * *

Simon scanned the sky yet again. They should have been back by now. _Serenity_ should have been back. He wanted to worry about himself and River--what they'd do if _Serenity_ never returned--yet he couldn't manage to do so. Well, quite. But more so, and it was an internal revelation to himself, he worried desperately about the band of thieves on that ratty little ship. And, even more strangely, he worried about _Serenity_ herself. 

Sitting down on a bench in the shade, Simon fingered the volume he'd borrowed from the Sanctuary's library. He'd not expected to find such a work in a religious order's collection--nor, in point of fact, an entire, quite complete, section on psychology with the overwhelming emphasis on traumatic and post-traumatic disorders. His training and experience were as a trauma surgeon, dealing with injuries to the body. Those he could patch and heal. Then the patient would leave his care before he ever saw what the trauma had done to the mind--to the actual person. Simon sighed. He'd been removed from the concept of the patient as a whole being until dealing with River, and until he had to sit down to dinner each night with the people he'd stitched up the day before. The well-worn volume in his hands fell open easily and naturally to the section on combat stress disorders. Many hands had opened and read these pages.

With a gently knowing smile, very reminiscent of Book's, the head brother of the Sanctuary (they didn't call him 'father') had told Simon, "Men are not born Shepherds. That comes when they're reborn." Eyes opened in a new way, Simon had looked more closely at the quiet men roaming the Sanctuary. Simon began to wonder whether the purpose of this place was more medical than spiritual. How many of these tranquil facades hid combat veterans seeking to banish nightmares of the past? And Shepherd Book's own past…? Book had chosen this place for them with a purpose, Simon realized. He just wondered if that purpose was to help River? Or the other troubled souls of _Serenity_?

_Serenity._ Serenity. _Serenity_. Serenity. Simon scanned the sky once again. Once you've been in Serenity, you never leave, Zoe had once told him. Simon was beginning to understand that, save that the 'Serenity' he would never leave--whether he ever saw it again or not--was not a battlefield, but a ship.

How had he come to this point? Life had been so clear and precise before. Everything had been planned and plotted out as though it were choreographed. Simon's life was meant to be stupendous. He could still see the pattern of it laid out before him; could see precisely where he was supposed to be at this moment and exactly what he was meant to be doing. Now… the future was a blank, a void where each step into the very next minute was a step into the unknown. He had no idea of any whats, whens, hows, or wheres. And the one tiny fragment of solidity left him--_Serenity_--had failed to return.

They'd gotten caught. Or they'd gotten killed. Or they'd been chased or tracked so they just couldn't return here in safety to pick them up. Or they'd done what Simon always privately feared and cut them loose. Seriously, how much could he expect them to go through and risk for he and River? Their freedom? Their very lives?

No, the captain would not sell them out, Simon told himself with a firm resolution. Or, if he did, the price would be dear and wrenched from him unwillingly. Simon swallowed hard and glanced back toward the cottage where River lay. The things she said… The things she'd been saying… Seldom, if ever, could he fathom the contorted tangle she spouted during her bad times, but the recurring themes seemed to revolve around her experiences at the Academy and the medical torture inflicted upon her. Now, however, she spoke in disjointed fragments about blood and blackness, with bodies rent and burned. Simon shivered. If he didn't believe it to be patently impossible, he'd think the things spilling from River were the very things the captain kept hidden away within himself.

It was impossible. River was merely extremely intuitive and perceptive. If she spoke things that sounded like the captain's memories and thoughts, it was only because she had constructed a fabrication of what she envisioned Mal's experiences to have been based on what she'd heard from and of him and his life. That was all. River was cognizant _Serenity_ was late and manifested her internalized worry in a stream of consciousness monologue based on her artificially constructed perception of the captain's experiences.

Simon nodded confidently to himself. Yes. It was a good rationalization… ur… _theory_. Even if she did read minds (no, she didn't), it would be impossible for her to read the captain's mind over this great span of distance.

Rubbing his eyes, Simon groaned. He was supposed to be a scientist yet here he was defining absolute limitations on telepathy when he didn't even believe it existed in the first place. Maybe the rest of them were sane and he was the one who had gone mad.

The sky remained cloudless and vividly blue. And empty.

He should go back in to River. Somehow his decision didn't translate to his body, for he remained seated. Maybe in a bit. He needed a break from her. Just a small one. Everything he tried today had failed. The last sedative he gave her just seemed to make it all very much worse.

A sharp crack caused Simon's head to snap up. He didn't react to the noise the way he'd seen the captain and Zoe, and even Jayne, react to sudden sounds, but his senses and reactions were definitely tuned in a new way. Rapidly scanning the sky, Simon hunted to forward track the sonic boom to the ship that had caused it. There! A faint vapor trail. Still too high up to see the ship.

It descended in a broad, sweeping circle. Simon's heart gave a dull thud. It wasn't _Serenity_.我的妈 _(wo-de-mah, trans. "Mother of God")_An Alliance patrol? He scrambled to his feet, backing futilely away further into the shadows.

The small ship landed on the lawn down the slope from the Sanctuary buildings, its engines whining down. Simon smiled as the door slid open. The brilliantly and exotically dressed Companion in the austere setting of the religious Sanctuary created an amusing juxtaposition. But… His smile faded. What was Inara doing here alone in her shuttle?

"It's about time!"

Simon spun to see River march across the lawn toward the shuttle.

"River!" he called, hurrying to catch up with her. "Inara… what?"

Inara laid a hand on River's shoulder, but she looked very seriously at Simon. "Mal, Zoe, Wash, and Kaylee were all arrested and are being held on an Alliance cruiser," she said.

"Oh," he groaned. Simon abruptly understood what it felt like to be gut-shot.

"We have to leave. Now," Inara said. "Simon, it's not safe for either of you here."

"But, I don't…" Simon stared at her, bewildered.

Softly, Inara said, "They all know where you are. If they talk…" She let the sentence trail off. There was no need to finish it. None of them would talk willingly. And there was the second slug to the gut.

"There's a chance, doctor," Inara added. "A small one, that we might be able to save at least some of them. But I need your help. It'll be at some risk to you, though, going in there, to the Core."

Simon's flick of hesitation was only on River's behalf, not his own, he was proud to realize. "We can leave River off at Bathgate Abby…" he began.

"Like hell," River cut in. "We're gonna get there just in the nick of time," she said, pulling away from Inara to step into the shuttle. She leaned back out with an expression Simon hadn't seen on her face since they were children. "And what does that make us?"

She ducked back in. Simon gave a short laugh, waving off Inara's puzzled look. "Big, damned… well, makes me scared, really." He glanced at Inara. "But let's go."

* * *

Mal leaned against the corner of the cell, staring dully at the gray walls. When you're past worry, past fear, past caring, all that's left is the nothing. He didn't know how long he'd been locked up in here. Sleep had been physically restorative, if unpleasant every other way he could conjure. Jumbles of chaotic horror. Mal let out a long breath. All that was inside him. He knew that. Just, having to look at it all over again… 

The food held still for the eating now, at least. That was something. No more sleep deprived hallucinations. But everything that had been called to the surface, all the black doors opened, strove to swallow him whole if he even gave in for a moment. The only refuge was to retreat into the nothing. That he could do. He'd had practice at that. Don't think. Don't feel. Don't even _be_.

Didn't work. Didn't work like it used to. The _others_ had invaded him. Breached his perimeter defenses, left him vulnerable. Kaylee with her cheerful softness. That lil' gal really did love him, scary, mean, and dangerous as he could be. Kaylee always took him just exactly as he wasn't, or how she thought he should be, used to be, maybe. Then there was Wash. How had he come to fill his crew with such cheerful idiots? It seemed a little out of character. But Wash made his Zoe happy, no denying.

And why'd he let a preacher stay on his boat? Hmmph. Mal's own perverse, out-of-joint-with-the-'verse nature having him keep a preacher about to bait him? Or to bait the preacher? Or did he want… No. The hell with that. You can never go back to what was.

Oh… Zoe. Never go back to what was, or almost was. Mal closed his eyes, trying to see her in their days of youth, passionate and happy, but the images wouldn't come. Instead he saw the blood, the violence, the death.

Out of character to have a whore on his ship, too, or to have such strong feelings for that whore… woman. A fine one, too, in lots of ways, not all of them physical. She'd be quite something if she could ever set herself free from being what _they'd_ convinced her she had to be. Quite something--hmmm… kinda like how he recollected Zoe was way back when, Before--fierce and sparkly but soft and warm, too. But that was his own damned fool nothin' going nowhere. Didn't do to think of her--she was gone, getting herself well rid of him. Smart gal. She might live in her own kind of prison, but it was one she could unlock herownself, she ever make the choice. Himself, he'd fouled things up bad and like as not for the rest of his days someone else would be holding the keys, Mal thought looking away from the blank cell door.

The cell door opened. Mal sort of wished it had just stayed closed. Just nothing good was bound to be coming his way.

"Out," the guard ordered. Their vocabulary hadn't grown, Mal thought, as he stood. He walked out just slowly enough to annoy them.

Helluva lot of guards again. Mal stood passively in the corridor, letting them do what they were gonna do anyhow, whether he resisted or not. His hands were guided up to his head and he was pointlessly searched. Where the hell did they think he was going to get anything dangerous in their own damned brig? Then his hands were locked close to a chain fastened around his waist and shackles attached to his ankles. Two MPs stood off at a distance the entire time with those sonic stun rifles aimed at him. You'd think they didn't trust him or something. So, he thought dully, the odds of pulling off that dramatically impossible escape were looking pretty… impossible.

Several MPs moved off down the corridor, opening a cell a few doors away. Zoe stepped out when ordered. Mal studied her. She wore the same red prison-wear as he did, and her face… Okay, now he got what she'd meant about a 'wants to murder them all expression'. She sure as hell had it on her face just now and from the increased tension among the guards they could tell it. She didn't look at Mal except for the briefest flick of a glance that didn't tell him anything except that she was in full warrior mode and not to be tangled with lightly.

When Zoe was fully restrained, they were led off out of the brig area. The guards held to a slow pace as the chain between Mal's ankles cut his normal stride off short. It wasn't to the interrogation room they were led, but to another room with a long table in it with a row of chairs on one side. Mal and Zoe were seated in two bolted-to-the-floor chairs facing the table, their leg chains clipped to the floor. Mal glanced around. It had a courtroom atmosphere to it. Judge, jury, executioner, he thought, counting off the three empty chairs facing them. The guards left save for two with stun rifles positioned at opposite corners of the room.

Mal felt Zoe turn to study him but couldn't quite bring himself to look over at her yet.

"What did they do to you?" Zoe asked. "You don't look good."

He glanced toward her. "They shot me full of something, made me sick," he said, hoping she'd get it without him having to spell it out. Though as near to being alone as they were ever like to be, the Feds would most assuredly still be listening in. "How about you? What did they do?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, really. A little 'stress and duress'--nothing much. Then Harken spouting some 狗屎 about how you'd offered up a full confession."

Mal winced. "Uh, yeah… Ummm, Zoe… about that…"

He didn't get to finish. A side door opened and several uniformed officers entered. The senior took the center chair, Harken sat on one side with his aide standing behind him, and another, who glared at them with undisguised contempt, seated on the other side.

Harken spoke first, barely glancing at Mal and Zoe. "This is the judge advocate for this sector," he said, indicating the senior officer in the center seat. "He has final authority in the disposition of your case. On his left is a representative of the authorities on Beta." Harken began digging through his paperwork.

"This a trial?" Mal asked, not hiding his own contempt for the proceedings. "Don't we get a defense?"

Harken looked up at him, giving Mal a quick up and down glance. "I'm here acting as your defense," he said evenly.

Mal stared at him darkly. "Thanks, Commander. That's the best laugh I've had in days," he said without a trace of humor in his tone.

It was probably his imagination, but Mal thought he detected the briefest twitch of a smile at the corners of Harken's mouth before his expression went serious again. "Strictly speaking, no, this isn't a trial," Harken said. "It's more a negotiation."

"There something to negotiate?" Mal asked.

Shaking his head, Harken said, "No. You have absolutely no choice in the matter. No variables. No discussion. You take the offer we make you here and now, or reject it and the full weight of Alliance justice will descend on you and squash you like the insects you are."

" 'Alliance justice'," Mal echoed. "And the jokes just keep on coming." He could feel Zoe giving him a 'shutup, you idiot' look. She didn't know yet that the point of no return had been met and passed and nothing he said now mattered.

Harken ignored his comment. "You were initially arrested for the deaths of the Alliance garrison on New Horizons--" Mal felt Zoe's breath catch. Harken hadn't gotten even that far with her? "--a conviction on which charge would certainly result in the executions of your entire crew. While we have good physical evidence of complicity for each of you, your answers under questioning regarding the matter have placed some doubt on the level of your involvement. Yet," Harken looked up at Mal, "the nature and form of your answers on the matter did not clear you entirely of potential involvement."

Mal scowled. He couldn't remember exactly what he'd said about it. There was some fuzziness in his recollections on that point. Putting down his papers, Harken dropped the formal tone and spoke directly to Mal. "Let me put it to you this way, sergeant--You're just not worth our bother. Trials, investigations, evidence, prosecution, defense… that all involves more time, effort, and money than you're worth. The proceeds from the sale of your ship were insufficient…"

"What!" Mal cut in.

"Hmmm?" Harken stared a moment. "Oh, yes. Your ship is forfeit. It has already been sold. Your admission of smuggling Alliance-controlled property and entering this system with false registration were sufficient for that. The new owner took it out of the system yesterday."

Mal had to close his eyes and just concentrate on breathing for a moment. He should have known that was coming. Still… He couldn't look over at Zoe.

"As I was saying," Harken went on and Mal could hardly listen, "You apparently aren't the risks to Alliance security we initially thought. Yet you are roaches crawling around the cracks and dark corners of the Alliance, causing trouble and spreading your disease, but at the lowest of levels. You aren't worth a major effort on our part to eradicate, but we are going to squash you, one way or another."

"Great defense speech there, Harken," Mal said faintly. _Serenity_ already gone?

Harken leaned forward, staring intently at Mal. "I coordinated this deal to save your life, Sergeant Reynolds, and the lives of your other crew members. I don't want to see that little mechanic of yours on a gallows any more than you do. She'll be returned to her home world, never to be allowed to leave it again, if you accept this offer. Her fate is in your hands. I feel a little less charitably toward your pilot," he said, rubbing his bruised lip, "but he also falls into the mostly harmless category, merely having fallen under your bad influence. Grounding him on Beta with a few years of probationary restrictions--no more flying, ever--should suffice."

"And us?" Zoe asked softly.

Harken glanced at her. Sympathy in his expression? For the penalty he was about to name? Or the about-to-come revelation that it was Mal who ratted her out? Mal couldn't tell. He stared down at the floor as Harken answered her.

"Fifteen years each," Harken said quickly.

"For what?" Zoe sounded puzzled.

"The robbery on Beta," Harken answered. _Don't blurt out anything, Zoe,_ Mal suddenly thought, looking sharply at Zoe, willing her to silence. _It's not **that** robbery--not the Blue Sun job._ She saw his look and after a flick of absolute bewilderment, held her silence, waiting for Harken to finish. "The robbery seven years ago of the payroll of the guard unit from the prison in which you were held after the war. Your captain offered up a full confession of his involvement, and also fully implicated you."

A soft sound of shock escaped Zoe. Mal couldn't meet her eyes, but felt the stunned look she gave him. He shifted uncomfortably as far as the restraints would allow.

Stumbling a bit, Mal said, "That's, um, a pretty harsh penalty for a petty crime that long ago, Commander."

The officer in the center spoke up. "The sentence takes into consideration the plethora of other crimes we can, and if necessary shall, attribute to you. Among other things, you had a pass key to a hotel, with the hotel's current security code on it, in your possession when you were arrested." Mal flinched. He'd forgotten about that. "A hotel that was also robbed the last time you were known to be in its vicinity. Your admitted involvement with an underground organization on Beta--" another shocked sideways glance from Zoe "--false ident cards… need I go on? I think there's not the slightest doubt that if we initiated a full investigation of you, back-traced your travels, we'd find many more items of interest to add to the list. Consider this offer to be merciful."

"Yeah… mercy…" Mal muttered. "Lots and lots of Alliance mercy.

"Actually, yes, sergeant," Harken said mildly. "I know you don't believe that at this moment, but…" he hesitated, then went on, "…your stories of the war--of your rescue of your first officer here, and of Serenity Valley--had an impact on me. I exerted my influence to get you this deal and stop the ongoing investigations before too much more about you and your activities was uncovered." He gave a short sigh.

"Let Zoe go and I'll confess to anything you want," Mal said. "Lock me up forever. Execute me. Whatever."

Harken shook his head. "That won't happen. Your confession irrevocably tied her in. You're a team--partners in war and in crime. Listen--you're both still young. You have a chance at a life again once you're released. Save yourselves. Save your crew. Take the offer."

Mal sighed. Defeat. "We need to talk. Need to talk to our people."


	20. Chapter 20: Countdown

**Blue Sun Job:** _Countdown_  
靑日 Job: _Countdown _

**Chapter 20**

"You can have ten minutes," Harken said. "Then you can see the others of your crew." The other officers stood and exited the courtroom. Harken waved to the two guards. "Out. They're not going anywhere."

That was a pure truth, Mal thought glumly.

Harken paused for a moment, studying Mal and Zoe with a thoughtful expression. "I'll see to it that you have some privacy." He gestured toward the cameras in the corners of the ceiling. "You'll be under observation, but no one will be listening in." With another measuring glance, he left the room.

The silence was absolute for about thirty seconds, or that's how high Mal counted before he could bring himself to flick a sideways glance at Zoe. He could feel her stare burning into him without even looking.

"There, perhaps, something you might like to tell me?" she asked. Perversely, Mal thought if Wash ever heard her use that tone of voice on him, Wash would get over the notion she deferred to Mal on every damned thing. Then that thought made Mal wince. Wash wouldn't be seeing his wife again for a lot of years. And that was Mal's fault too.

"I'd like to tell you everything is under control," he said, looking over at her with a lopsided smile. Zoe was not amused. Deadly not amused. "Just trying to lighten the mood," he said. "Wouldn't have done that 'cept you're chained up and can't kill me just now." He noticed the way she was flexing against the restraints.

Zoe sighed heavily and relaxed. She looked over at him, studying him intently. "What the hell happened, sir? How'd you come to be confessing to things they didn't even know about? What did they do to you?"

Mal sighed too, glancing at the cameras aimed at them. He didn't believe for a minute they were free of monitoring. "They had me boxed in. All kinds of drugs. A lie detector I couldn't beat, and..." he hesitated. "Remember Snabu?" Mal stared at Zoe intently. The name wasn't a place name, it was a person, a young private who'd been in their unit scarcely a week before getting killed. It was Snabu who'd caught the scout that Mal and Zoe had questioned using the Fed's truth drug. Such a short time had the boy been with them, Mal didn't think service records on him had even made it back into the chaos of the Independent's command. The Feds could try to track down that reference a long time without figuring out what Mal meant.

Maybe Zoe could too. She worked on it for a long time before he saw the recollection light in her eyes. Nodding slowly, Zoe said, "Right." She may not have gotten the full magnitude of what he was trying to tell her without actually telling her, but she'd understood enough--that he'd managed to divert, to only give them some rather than the 'all' that scout had spilled, though at a heavy price.

"We have to take Harken's deal," Mal said dully. "Ain't no other choice. Costs us dear, and I'm sorry for it, Zoe, but it gets Wash and Kaylee out of the fire. You gotta convince your husband not to fight it," he said, looking sideways at her. "They go after us for that mess on New Horizons and everyone ends up dead."

"Ummm... they really got evidence tying us to that?"

Mal nodded. "They really do. Harken named it all out. Got my retinal scan as the last data entry in a dead Fed's recorder. Got other things connecting every damned one in. Don't matter that it ain't right, they'll still hang us for it."

She looked down and away. "Yes... Yes. Still... fifteen years." Zoe looked up at him, holding his eye. "You gonna make it that long?"

He looked away. "Don't fret about me."

"Can't help it," she said. "It's been my job for a lot of years."

"Zoe... I'm sorry..."

"Don't," she cut in tersely. "You did what you had to do, sir. Always do."

"Yeah," he said slowly. "You ain't always found that an admirable trait." He studied her again, trying to memorize her features as exactly as he could. "Soooo... I figure we got about seven minutes left here. Whatcha wanna talk about?"

They had probably five minutes left before Zoe answered. "About what it all means," she said quietly.

Mal chuckled grimly. "Don't mean a damned thing. None of it. Never did. And you know it."

He held her softly probing look. "Used to," she said in a bare whisper. "You used to believe it did."

"Well, I was wrong. Wrong about a lot of things," he said.

"Not everything." Zoe sighed softly.

Mal shook his head. "Don't go playing 'what ifs', Zoe. Not now. Don't need any more regrets at this particular juncture." He had a hunch where her thoughts had gone and didn't think he could stand it, not just now.

"Ain't trying to give you regrets," she said. "Just trying to give you... I don't know..."

"What?"

She met his eyes again, gave a slight shrug. "Something to hold on to."

He rolled his eyes. "You figure I'm gonna bait some guard into ending me, don't you?"

"The thought crossed my mind."

Mal wanted to lie, but the thought had crossed his mind too. "Don't know that it would matter much, all things considered. But, no, I ain't suicidal. We've been in worse situations than this and held on through them."

"Yes, _we_ have. I doubt we'll be sharing a cell, though. And you don't deal well with being locked up. Especially alone," Zoe said.

With an exasperated sound, Mal said, "I just love amateur psychoanalysis. You trying to piss me off so I'll hold on that fifteen years just to have a chance to finish the fight?"

Her grin was gratifying. "Maybe. Maybe it's for me too." She raised her eyebrows, giving him an interesting look that said many things. "Maybe I need to know you'll still be there."

The look they held took them down to about the one minute mark.

"Can you lean over here?" Zoe asked.

"Ummm... maybe," Mal said, puzzled. He shifted against the tight restraints to lean toward her. Zoe did the same.

"Close your eyes," she whispered. Her lips barely brushed against his, her breath a warm sigh against them. "Just hold on for me."

The door clicked. They both snapped their attention over to it. Harken entered, staring at them coolly.

Zero.

* * *

"Sooooo..." Simon stretched out the word as he stared with an increasing sense of panic at Jayne's seemingly random stabs at various buttons and controls, "Just as a point of interest, what exactly do you think we can do against an Alliance cruiser?" 

"Stay way the hell away from it," Jayne muttered, jabbing more controls. The ship, mercifully, Simon thought, ignored most of what Jayne was doing, continuing its smooth plunge through the Black.

"I could blow it up," River announced behind them. Both glanced around. She danced up the stairs and grinned broadly at Jayne. "With my brain!"

Jayne scowled. "Shut-up, crazy girl. You could not," he said, turning away. Simon flashed a grin at River. Jayne hadn't seemed at all certain of that. Come to think of it, Simon though, his grin fading a touch, neither was he. The ship gave a lurch.

"I can also fly the ship better than you," River said, sounding much more serious.

"I can fly good enough," Jayne said. The ship lurched again. River and Simon grabbed for something to hold onto. "Point to point. Just don't ask me to land."

"I'm emphatically asking you not to land," Simon said, as earnestly as he could.

"We won't be landing," Inara said, entering the bridge. "I'll take my shuttle in again. We don't want _Serenity_ tagged entering that system. But..." she grabbed for a handhold, "...can you get us into position? I won't be here to help." The ship lurched again. "For Buddha's sake, stop pushing that button! It's a lateral thruster, meant for docking maneuvers."

"Just practicing," Jayne muttered, but Simon noticed he pulled his hand away from the troublesome control.

"I can fly the ship better than you," River said, more emphatically this time.

"River, honey," Simon said soothingly, laying a hand on her arm to guide her off the bridge. "I don't have most of your smoothers with us, but there must be something still in the infirmary..."

River jerked away, giving him a look of pure disgust. "I _can_ fly _Serenity_," she said. "I'm a genius prodigy. Remember?"

Inara put an arm around River gently. "River. You've never flown a ship."

"I've watched." River stabbed a finger toward Jayne who--Simon noted with a certain degree of satisfaction--jerked back a touch. "More than him... he... More than Jayne. I can bring us down into a station-keeping position directly over the gas giant's pole so that its magnetic and gravitational fields will hide us from the Alliance sensors. A better position than what you've all... you-all... y'all..." She shook herself, "...had planned." Simon tilted his head, considering. Maybe. He glanced at Inara and Jayne and could see they thought it possible, too. Then River added, "Remember, I was _Serenity_ for a while."

Simon groaned.

Jayne snorted. "Had us right 'til there, girl," he said.

Inara shifted. "Well... possession of the ship aside, maybe we should let her have the controls for a bit. See what she can do?"

With a shrug, Jayne stood. "Long as we ain't near anything we can run into, don't see the harm."

Simon smiled to himself. Jayne wouldn't say it out loud, but he actually did think River could handle the ship. River sat at the controls, as happy-looking as Simon had ever seen her.

"Hello, _Serenity_. I'm back," River whispered, caressing the controls in a manner Simon didn't think particularly proper for his little sister to do.

Turning back to Inara, Simon asked, "Speaking of possessing _Serenity_, how is it that you do? I should have thought the ship would have been confiscated when the captain and the others were arrested."

"She was," Inara said with a small sigh. "And put up for sale." She gave Simon a small smile. "I bought _Serenity_."

Simon shook his head. "How? That must have been a lot of money. Where'd you...? Was it from the job? Or...?" He couldn't imagine Mal dumping quite that much money solely into Jayne's keeping. How much did Companions charge for their services anyhow?

Inara sighed again. "Mal is going to be seriously vexed when he finds out--if he finds out," she qualified, a doubtful frown crossing her face. "If we succeed and he doesn't end up spending the rest of his life in an Alliance prison." Inara looked up at Simon with a smile. "I fenced the Lassiter."

"Huh!" Simon was at a loss for words. "I didn't even know where it was hidden."

"Zoe told me. Before they left." Her lips twitched. "He might be peeved at her too."

Simon chuckled. "On the balance, I have to think he'll forgive you both. If you save his ship, and himself...?"

Inara shrugged. "It's hard to say. Mal can be... complex, about such things."

"About a lot of things," Simon agreed, thinking about the reading he'd been doing at the Sanctuary.

"He ain't complex," Jayne inserted, low. Simon glanced at him. Jayne was staring intently at River and her working of _Serenity's_ controls. "He's just crazy." Jayne gave a shake of his head, looking up at Simon. "But crazy seems to work on this boat. This sister of yours can fly." He looked back at River sternly. "Assuming she don't go too nuts and fly us down into that gas giant just for fun. See what kind of hull pressure we could take."

"That _would_ be fun," River said, smiling brightly at Jayne. "Thanks for the suggestion."

The groans were almost musical in their harmony.

"We're getting a wave in," Inara announced, reaching for the panel. "It's from the Shepherd." She shook her head. "Fairly cryptic, but an estimated contact point and time. He may have Kaylee with him."

"That'll help," Jayne said seriously.

"The others...?" Simon asked.

Inara shook her head. "If I'm reading this correctly... assuming Mal does what Book expects, they should be transferred to the custody of the planetary authorities soon." She glanced up. "And we have a chance."

Simon looked out at the stars. "I wish there were a way to let them know. It's not a good feeling, thinking you've been abandoned and no one is coming to help." He looked back at his comrades. "But, then, Mal and Zoe know that feeling... very well.


	21. Chapter 21: PS1467

**Blue Sun Job:** _PS1467_  
靑日 Job: _PS1467_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions 

他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap/sh-t  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?

**

* * *

****Chapter 21**

Now came the really hard part, Mal thought, exchanging a fortifying glance with Zoe as the guards opened the door and stepped aside.

Wash, Kaylee, and Shepherd Book waited in a fair-sized room, or holding cell, with benches along three walls. The Shepherd rested a comforting arm around Kaylee. Wash sat a little apart from them, glaring at the door. They all wore their regular clothes still, but Wash was handcuffed. Mal noticed his knuckles were bruised. So he really had gotten a lick in on that sumbitch Harken. Well, good on him for that. The only one of 'em to get any kind of smack back at the bastards. The utterly black look Wash gave Mal quickly snuffed any twitch of satisfaction, though. Wash was well and thoroughly pissed--at Mal--and no mistaking it. Had he really bought any of the 狗屎 Harken must have fed him?

Kaylee and the Shepherd looked on solemnly as Mal and Zoe entered. Zoe crossed to the farthest end of the room, Wash immediately moving to sit close to her. Mal woulda thought the bickering would come after the lovey-dovey greetings, but from the low, intense whispering they launched into the fight straight away.

Seating himself on the other end of the narrow room, Mal leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. Kaylee disengaged herself from the Shepherd and came to sit by him.

"Sorry I can't put my arm around you, lil' Kaylee," Mal said.

" 's alright," she murmured, snuggling in close to him. She worked her hand into his, twining their fingers together. Resting her head against Mal's shoulder, she gave a whimper so small and pathetic it was like to rip his heart right out. He turned to drop a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"You okay, mei-mei? They treat you decent?" he asked.

"Mm hmm." She didn't seem able to form whole words just now.

"They let me visit her a few times," the Shepherd inserted. "She wasn't mistreated."

Mal studied the preacher. "You ain't in any trouble here, are you?"

Book shook his head. "No. I was held briefly, but released as soon as my credentials were established."

Mal gave him a long, questioning look, but the preacher gave just the slightest of 'no' gestures with his eyes. He hadn't played his magic ident card. It was a peculiar, remote hope Mal had held that the preacher might still get them out of this fix, but he guessed it wasn't to be. He trusted that Book would have tried it if he thought it woulda done 'em any good. The last faint flicker of hope extinguished. That covered all the options. Jayne was long, long gone with the money if he had two licks of sense in that dim, treacherous brain of his. Inara was gone and not like to retangle herself with the criminals she'd got herself shut of no how. And the Tams… hiding and helpless their ownselves. Not that he really thought any of 'em could do anything against the Alliance anyhow. It was just too damned big. Too damned powerful. And they were square under its heel. Ah, well…

"I'd sort of expected more questions from y'all, straight away," Mal said, low, to the preacher. The discussion on the far end of the room was rising in tone and volume, but the words were still indistinct. Wash glanced away from Zoe just long enough to give Mal another dirty look.

"Umm…" Book seemed to hesitate, then he gestured toward the wall by the door. "See that monitor? They let us watch that 'trial', such as it was."

Mal let that sink in a moment. "Uh… all of it?"

Book nodded. "They did cut the sound off when they left you and Zoe alone. Couldn't hear what was said. Just could, uh, see what was going on." Was that a glimmer of amusement in the preacher's eyes? Weren't funny.

"Great." Mal flicked a quick look over to Zoe and Wash. So, the dirty looks weren't just for getting his wife screwed over by the law.

"I thought it was sweet," Kaylee said judiciously.

"Yeah. I'm thinkin' Wash didn't so much," Mal said. Crap. One more thing for list. Only the gorram Feds didn't know it was the Wash-_don't_-need-to-know-it list. "'Cause there ain't regrets enough to go 'round at this juncture." He indulged in a moment of very sincere and graphic cussing.

"Listen," Mal said to Kaylee, squeezing her hand tighter. "So you know, then, what's going on. It's the best of a bad situation and gets you clear of this mess. You be a good girl and do as they say, 懂吗? Don't make a fuss or nothing. Okay?"

Kaylee tilted her head up. Dang those puppy eyes and the way they brimmed with tears. "Cap'n… no. I ain't lettin' you get locked up all those years and me just bounding away, saving myself. 'Tain't right."

"Kaylee, you do as I say," Mal said firmly. "That's an order. I'm still your captain even though _Serenity_…" He stopped.

"I know," she whispered, hugging his arm.

"You just do as I say. And do as the Feds say," Mal said. "Just you figure I'm being selfish about this. And it ain't just 'cause I don't want you on my conscience, mei-mei. I'm worrying on my ownself too. Look at me." She met his eyes again. "Much as I ain't happy about spending all those years in a Fed jail, I even more don't want to end up at the end of one'a their ropes, or in front of a firing squad. I've seen that stuff happen and didn't much care for it. If you, or Wash, makes a fuss about this deal, that's just 'xactly what'll happen. They'll go after me, and Zoe, on all them other charges, but even worse you just know them bastards would make us watch 'em end you and Wash first, and that's a thing I just don't think I could bear. Understood?"

Kaylee gave a sniffle. "Understood."

Mal rested his head on hers a moment, with a soft, relieved sigh. Zoe seemed to be having more difficulty convincing hers to go along with the way it was. They seemed to be fighting now about things having nothing to do with the situation at hand. Mal just hoped they didn't get so mad they didn't pay heed to what they were saying, lest the almost certainly listening ears take note. Hell, Zoe knew they were still in a combat situation here. Mal blocked them out and turned to the Shepherd.

"Preacher, you'll see to Kaylee for me? Make sure she gets safe back to her home?" Mal asked.

"I will, son," Book said solemnly. "You have my word. I don't know if I'll be permitted to visit you and Zoe again after this, but I'll try. See if I can offer some spiritual comfort." His eyes twinkled at Mal.

Now it was purely vexing how the preacher seemed to be finding cause for those flickers of humor in situation that--as far as Mal could see--was nothing but bleak. Did he…? No. No more ain't-gonna-happen twitches of hopefulness. They were done. They'd lost. Again. And that's just the way it was. No damned heroic rescues comin', or last minute baptisms-by-blood to change Harken's mind. Or was the preacher just amused because his criminal flock had got nailed and now he'd have a truly captive audience for his preaching? Hell…

"And that's an order!" Zoe snapped loudly. Wash called her a bad--dangerously bad, 'cept she was restrained and couldn't do him any physical damage--name in return. Not quite the gushy words of love Mal'd expected from them two at this point, but then they couldn't run off to their bunk to communicate the way they usually did.

"We're agreed, sir," Zoe said coolly to Mal. Wash mouthed the 'sir' in that oh-so-amusing way of his.

Yeah… they were listening in, for the door opened immediately.

Harken stepped into the doorway. "We'll take your deal," Mal said flatly.

With a short nod of acknowledgement, Harken said, "Shepherd… Miss Frye…Say your farewells. Your transport leaves in five minutes." He stepped back out of the room, leaving the door open, guards waiting just outside.

Kaylee cried openly, though silently, now, soaking Mal' shirt sleeve with her tears. Hard pressed to hold on to control, Mal dropped another kiss on her head, squeezed her hand, then said, "Get on with you now, mei-mei. You be a good girl."

Planting a quick kiss on Mal's cheek, Kaylee untangled her hand from his, crossed the room to hug Zoe and Wash, then headed for the door. At the doorway she stopped, turned, and Mal found himself enveloped in warm, soft girl.

"I love my cap'n," she whispered in his ear, then turned and ran out of the room.

Fists clenched, straining against the steel bands cutting into his wrists without even realizing it, Mal closed his eyes and hunted for the darkness, the nothing.

A hand closing firmly on his shoulder brought him back. Mal glanced up at the Shepherd.

"Stand firm, son," the preacher said quietly. "At this hour, you need to know there's a power that can bring you comfort and strength…"

As Shepherd Book went on with his spiel, Mal blanked out his words. Gorram preacher was pressing a finger into his shoulder in a curious way… a pattern… Mal concentrated on that as the preacher nattered on with his religious platitudes. It was a code. It took about half a dozen repeats of the pattern before Mal recognized it--it was an old tap code. Mal'd learned it way back, in the early days of the war. Weren't used much. How did the preacher…? Never mind that. Focusing hard, Mal slowly deciphered the message: PS1467X1823.

Now what in hell did that mean? Was he reading it every kind of wrong? Then the light flickered on in Mal's head, matching the twinkle in Book's eyes as he continued preaching at Mal--first time Mal hadn't cut him off short when he tried to spout that 狗屎.

PS1467… Psalm 146, verse 7, "Who executes justice for the oppressed…The Lord sets the prisoners free," and X1823… Exodus, chapter 18, verse 23, "If you do this thing and God so commands you, then you will be able to endure, and all these people also will go to their place in serenity." Serenity… or peace? _Serenity_.

Sonuvabitch. Mal caught Book's eye, giving a half-blink of acknowledgement. A grin spread across the Shepherd's face as he gave Mal's shoulder a squeeze and a pat. As the preacher turned away to say his words to Zoe and Wash, Mal leaned back and worked at keeping his expression blank. As heartening, and _hopeful_, as the preacher's message was, Mal couldn't help but be a bit galled at the form the message had been in, Bible passages, chapter and verse, and Mal was more than a bit irked that the gorram preacher _knew_ Mal would get it.

* * *

Hours later, Mal was no longer heartened by the Shepherd's message--he was flat out scared by it. No, no, no… he didn't want any of his people to try anything so dangerous as a rescue attempt. Not the Shepherd. And certainly not Kaylee. They'd get killed or they'd get caught and then there'd be no saving any of them. For pity's sake, what could the preacher be thinking? He, Zoe, and Wash were on an Alliance cruiser, biggest, toughest damned boat the bastards had--it could not be tackled, not no how. Soon they would be transferred to the custody of the officials on Beta--a freakin' Core world swarming with Feds. No shoot 'em up jailbreak was gonna work. Not and have anyone survive. 

All Mal could do was fret. He couldn't do another single, damned thing and that was the worst of it. The guarding and restraints were so exact that he couldn't even try that guard-baiting he and Zoe had talked on. They never gave him the opening.

Paperwork had been signed. Pleas entered. Records filed. Disks copied. And Malcolm Reynolds, late sergeant of the Independent army and one-time master of a Firefly transport, was now an officially convicted Alliance felon. He'd only been an unofficial one before. Mal didn't scorn his new title, just the 'perks' that went along with it.

A few more worried hours sitting in a cell in the brig, then the guards came again with cuffs and shackles to escort him to the shuttle that would take him back to that forsaken planet he never should have gone near again, not for any treasure in the 'verse. An involuntary shudder went through him as the guards chained him in place in the shuttle. He had a sudden flash of memory of the first time he and Zoe had escaped that gorram moon… he'd thought it was the prison guards taking him back down to that prison, and he desperately hadn't wanted to go. Now he was, and Zoe wasn't in a Fed uniform taking care of him. She was being chained in place nearby and they were both going back down there… to stay.

"Steady, sir," Zoe said sternly, giving him a sharp look. Did he look that panicked? Maybe.

* * *

Zoe and Mal were already in the shuttle when Wash was escorted in. He was feeling more than regretful about what he'd said to Zoe and was glad they'd get at least one more chance to talk, before… 

Though he wasn't restrained with anywhere near the thoroughness of Zoe and Mal, the gorram Feds did attach the chain of the cuffs down so he couldn't move from his seat. Even though he was supposed to be turned loose--more or less--on the surface of Beta, the guards just didn't seem to quite trust him. They didn't like it when you hit 'em… Wash hadn't worked that out himself, he'd heard that somewhere before. Sure was the truth, though.

Wash had framed just the right words to say to Zoe to make up for what he'd spouted earlier when another MP entered the shuttle, carrying an injector gun.

"What's that?" he asked, alarmed. Zoe and Mal just looked disgusted.

"All high security prisoners in transit in this system are sedated," the Fed drone intoned. "Keeps 'em quiet during transport," he added.

Zoe and Mal exchanged another of those looks that said much from which Wash was excluded. Wash tried to protest, saying it was his last chance to talk to his wife, and she was so secured she could hardly move anyhow, so what was the harm if you bent the rules… Zoe and Mal never said a word, just looked so 他妈的 resigned. The Fed hit Mal with the drug first. Wash watched him fight it for about three seconds, then relax with a sigh and conk out. Zoe didn't pass out when they injected her, just relaxed, to the extreme. There wouldn't be any conversation between husband and wife on this ride.

A Fed captain entered the shuttle and the door sealed. Not too many guards left aboard, three plus the shuttle pilot and the captain, but then they didn't need too many, Wash thought, looking over at Zoe. Her eyes were fixed on him with an utterly blank expression. Great. Maybe he should tell her what he'd planned anyhow; maybe it would sink in somehow.

"Zoe… honey…" he started.

"Shut up," a guard snapped. "No talking."

Wash was beginning to understand Zoe's and Mal's utter contempt for these fellas.

The shuttle jarred slightly as it disengaged from the cruiser. No one save a pilot, like Wash, could have detected and interpreted the subtle sensations in the shuttle's grav field as it went through various maneuvers. He felt when they cut the drive and coasted on their trajectory to Beta. Wash didn't know the relative positions of the cruiser and the moon, but he'd get an idea when they blasted again to cut their velocity. Could be a short ride, or a long one--depending on the orbital positions of ship and world.

He was just trying to distract himself, Wash realized, from the horrendous reality here. He was about to lose his wife for half a lifetime. He hadn't even had her for long. They were still really newlyweds. Glancing away from Zoe, toward Mal, Wash ran through their three-way relationship in his head. It wasn't like he didn't know Zoe and Mal had a pre-established connection. Hell, Mal had pretty damned bluntly pointed out that they'd been together a long time before Wash came along, and that they had a history together. But what was that history? He'd believed--or had convinced himself to believe--that it wasn't intimate. They certainly didn't behave in front of Wash as if they had any sort of personal, man-woman type of closeness. Then the gorram Feds let him watch them alone together and Wash had the stunning revelation come to him that he didn't know how Zoe and Mal acted when they were alone together precisely because he'd never seen them alone together. They were alone together when they were alone together. It was the precise, exact point of the matter.

Did Zoe lose the taut military deference and annoying sir-ing? Did they look at each other differently? Did they…? 我的妈 _(trans. wo de ma mother of god),_ he'd seen them unable to comfortably touch and kiss each other right in front of him, but then they'd been playing a fake game for his benefit. Now he'd seen them when they didn't know he was watching kiss with utter familiarity and look at each other with expressions that were nothing short of suggestive… There was more, more between them that commander and subordinate, more that wartime loyalties. More…

The grav field gave a faint pulse. Huh? Unless that gorram cruiser was skimming Beta's atmosphere, they should have had a much longer transit time. Wash concentrated for a moment, but nothing more happened. Maybe a traffic maneuver.

However it all ended, Wash couldn't regret having taken the job on _Serenity_. Play-boying his way around the 'verse wasn't nearly as satisfying as having one extraordinary woman who'd promised to love him forever. And yet… Wash looked again at the captain--ex-captain--at Mal. Mal taunted Wash with his and Zoe's history to make him angry and keep him alive, but he'd sure as hell known exactly which buttons to push, hadn't he? What had been true? And what had been act?

Wash brooded for a long time when he felt another twitch in the grav field. They must be getting near Beta and the trip close to ending. Would they ever let him even visit Zoe, he wondered with abrupt panic? They'd slapped a boat-load of probationary restrictions on him--consorting with a felon might just be on the verboten list. Well, there'd be no consorting, actually, but he wanted to be able to see and talk to her. Cripes… And he'd been busy fretting about himself.

A clanking thud startled him into jerking hard against the cuffs holding him. What the hell? That was a ship-to-ship docking, and a clumsy one at that. Well, clumsier than he could do.

The guards sat up, alert but not alarmed.

"At ease," the Fed captain ordered. "Just an unscheduled prisoner transfer." He drew his sidearm and pointed it at the guards as he slapped the airlock controls.

Huh?

The door slid open with a hiss of air pressures and Wash saw the most beautiful sight in the 'verse framed in the opening.

Jayne. With Vera cradled in his arms.


	22. Chapter 22: X1823

**Blue Sun Job:** _X1823_  
靑日 Job: _X1823_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap

* * *

**Chapter 22**

"Whatchu lookin' at?" Jayne growled at Wash as he herded the three Alliance troopers off to the side. Their stunned expressions rivaled Wash's own. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen in the normal, sane 'verse. What the good gorram was going on? And why was Jayne turning his back on that still-armed Fed captain and the shuttle's pilot!

"Um… uh... you… uh… it's, uh…" Wash rapidly approached the babble zone. No one was shooting anyone yet. That was something. "Just real, _real_ happy to see you, Jayne." Then he added sincerely, "I love you, man."

Jayne snorted but did look unaccountably--no, countably--pleased. Wash had never exactly been a fan of the big oaf, and never shy of pointing it out, but at this very moment Jayne looked as luscious to Wash's eyes as Zoe ever had. Wash gulped. He'd deal with that disturbing thought later. "You, uh, do realize there's a Fed officer _behind_ you?" Wash asked in a stage whisper, tugging anxiously at the cuffs. The whole helpless thing grated on a fellow's nerves.

As Jayne forced the three guards to kneel (Vera seemed to have them thoroughly intimidated), he flicked a glance back at the officer. "Oh, yeah... you ain't met Monty's nephew yet." Monty had a nephew? Monty had a nephew who was an Alliance officer? Monty had a nephew who was an Alliance officer helping them escape?

Everything launched into full throttle at once. Shepherd Book appeared with bolt cutters. Simon had an injector gun with which he knocked the three guards out with a chilly, mechanical precision. Cutting Wash loose first, Book cut Zoe's tethering chain, then Mal's. Wash and Book carried/dragged Zoe out of the shuttle while Jayne and Monty's nephew took Mal. Zoe was just conscious enough, and helpful enough, to hinder rather that help their progress.

"Kaylee! You're up," Jayne called as they laid Zoe and Mal down on the deck of _Serenity's_ cargo bay. Kaylee marched past Wash with a tool box and a grim, hard look on her face such as Wash had never before seen.

Wash glimpsed Kaylee and the shuttle pilot moving about inside, then focused on his wife.

"Zoe, sweetcakes… can you hear me?" She giggled then her eyes roamed randomly around the cargo bay, clearly nothing really registering with her. He stroked her cheek and glanced nervously around. What was going on here? Was this all part of the master plan? Had Mal and Zoe planned the gorram job out this 他妈的 far and just neglected to mention it to the only-the-pilot/only-the-husband?

"Can you unlock these chains?" Book asked the Fed officer. Monty's nephew? Rebel, outlaw, hard-core Independent Monty had a nephew who was a Fed? A _living_ Fed?

"No. The keys aren't carried onboard," the Fed answered. He looked--understandably, Wash supposed--a bit uneasy in this company.

Inara appeared with a small tool kit. Working quickly and smoothly with two slender tools, she unlocked the cuffs around Wash's wrists, then moved on to Zoe's. He gaped at her. He wasn't the only one.

"You're pretty damned good at picking locks. You learn that at whore academy?"

"Jayne!" Simon and Book exclaimed in unison in shocked, admonishing tones.

Jayne shrugged. "What? Cap'n's out cold--someone had to say it."

To Wash's surprise, Inara chuckled.

Simon knelt by Zoe, flashing a penlight in her eyes. "What was given to them?" he asked brusquely toward the Fed. Wash noticed Simon avoided showing his face to the Fed, and the Fed avoided looking at any of them. What the…?

"I understand it's just a standard sedative," Monty's nephew answered. "I couldn't stop it, but they should be fine in a few hours."

"She all right, Doc?" Wash asked, not willing to take a Fed's word for it.

"I think so," Simon said. "Vitals are strong. Responses good. She's conscious… sort of. Just very, very relaxed." Zoe giggled. Simon moved briskly on to the captain.

Scanning the cargo bay of _Serenity_, Wash felt the shock of the abrupt rescue start to throttle back. As he looked about he did a mental roll call.

"Uh..." he said, running through the list again. "Who's flying the ship?"

"River," Inara answered, freeing Zoe's hands.

"Riv..." Wash's eyes darted around in alarm. This was one of those situations where the captain would be ordering him to abandon his wife's side to do his job. But Mal was still out and no one was ordering anything--the others all seemed to have their roles set and were executing them with swift precision.

"River!" he repeated, hearing the tinge of panicked horror creep into his tone. Wash was actually surprised how calmly he was taking this bizarre bit of news. Screaming hysterically didn't seem at all out of proportion. "River!" Simon, bent over the captain, gave Wash an annoyed glance. Since when did Simon think his sis was anything but crazy? Or that she could fly the ship? With another glance down at his wife, Wash bolted on a dead run for the bridge.

* * *

"We're set," Kaylee called. She slapped the airlock controls, sealing _Serenity_ up. Simon looked up from his examination of the captain to watch. The shuttle pilot began shedding his Alliance uniform rapidly, as though he couldn't get the contaminating thing off his body quickly enough. Monty's co-pilot, obviously didn't relish his brief tenure as an Alliance shuttle pilot. The Fed captain stood apart, arms folded across his chest, studiously avoiding looking at any of them, or at any part of the ship except the airlock door. 

Jayne slapped the comm. "Go."

"I'll just wait here," the Fed said quietly to Book when asked if he'd like to go some place more comfortable.

"For what it's worth," Book said to him, "I think you did the right thing."

The Fed officer flicked a brief glance at Book. Simon saw a play of many things across his face. "How many rights and wrongs does it take to balance the scales?" he said to the Shepherd. "I was just paying a debt here. I owed Reynolds and I owed my uncle." His face went hard. "I don't owe them anymore. Now leave me be. What I don't see and don't know I don't have to decide on the rightness or wrongness of."

Simon ducked his head away again, even though the Fed returned to staring carefully at the airlock door. With a jerk of his head, Simon gestured for Book to come over to him.

Kneeling by Simon, Book looked the captain over gravely. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know," Simon said, shaking his head. "He shouldn't be unconscious. There's something else going on with him other than just a simple sedative." He wondered briefly at Book's sharp glance at the captain. "I want to move him into the infirmary."

Inara finished unlocking the rest of the chains, which Jayne scooped up. "I'll take these," he said. Everyone froze for a second of studied avoidance of thinking what he meant to do with them. "What?"

Simon shuddered briefly, in sync with _Serenity's_ shudder as the drive lit and shuttle fell away. He glanced toward Kaylee, and her stony expression, and tried not to think about the three guards left aboard the shuttle. Another of the hard realities of life in this 'verse, he thought. This one would be Kaylee's burden to bear. Then he focused on the captain again, flicking his penlight in his eyes.

Wash's voice sounded over the comm. "Shuttle's on its trajectory, Kaylee, five-by-five. Good work. Everyone hold on--as soon as it blows we go to full burn… Get your hands off of that!"

River's voice cut over his, sounding petulant, echoing through _Serenity_, "We should do a hyperbolic below the shuttle as it blows. It'll cover our burn better."

"That's too low in the gas giant's atmo--we'd rupture a bulkhead!"

"Standard tolerances for a Firefly…" River started.

"_Serenity's_ not standard. And you're insa…" The comm cut off.

Another moment of rich silence again filled the cargo bay.

"Well," Shepherd Book said evenly, "I think we should take the 'holding on' suggestion."

* * *

"…idea of people being addicted to excitement and tension is not new," Simon said, his conversation with Book having veered off on a different track. Quiet filled _Serenity_ again now that the rendezvous with Monty's ship had been completed and they again plunged alone through empty space with no indication of tracking or pursuit. 

"Adrenaline junkies?" Book said, with a chuckle and grin. "Being a Shepherd leading a cloistered life would suggest I have no such affliction. The others on this ship, however…"

Simon grinned back. "You don't seem to be living in a quiet Abby now, Book. On this ship, pulling off the occasional daring rescue…" He raised his eyebrows with a hint of challenging amusement. "A few adrenaline addiction issues of your own, perhaps?"

Chuckling again, Book said, "Perhaps. Or perhaps it's like it is with the others on this ship--the times of peace and quiet become so much more the precious and cherished because the danger and tension provide such a stark contrast. You've gone from trauma surgeon and E.R. doctor--not exactly bland occupations--to criminal mastermind slash fugitive slash outlaw ship's medic. A few excitement issues of your own?"

Simon laughed agreeably. "And yet I'm bored senseless most of the time… in the times I'm not abjectly terrified."

"Oh, you don't scare easily, son," Book said. Then he gave a slight jerk of his head, drawing Simon's attention to the captain, sprawled on the infirmary's exam table, and the readouts behind him registering subtle changes.

Simon stood. "Yes. He's close to waking. Finally."

Moving his stool close to the captain, Simon watched him drift back toward consciousness. This was always interesting; the captain in one of his rare, absolutely unguarded moments.

His eyes flickered open. No comprehension yet. Simon watched, a faint smile growing on his face as he saw his private prediction of Mal's behavior play out. The captain's gaze roamed across the infirmary, passing Simon and Book without even a hint of recognition. Not finding what he was apparently looking for, he started tracking back across the room.

"She's fine," Simon said, watching the captain intently.

Mal's eyes snapped over to Simon, recognition sinking in after a moment, followed quickly by a questioning squint.

"Zoe's fine," Simon said. "She's on the bridge."

The captain nodded acceptingly, then scowled. "How…?"

"Did I know that's who you were looking for?" Simon grinned. "I've seen you do that before. Almost like an ingrained compulsion." It was like Mal had to find his benchmark in the 'verse and lock onto it before everything else settled into place. It was an interesting character trait, and--Simon suspected--for Wash probably an annoying one. There were some strange dynamics between those three at times, ones Simon still hadn't fully deciphered, and wasn't sure if they had themselves.

"Great," the captain muttered. "More amateur psychoanalysis."

"How do you feel?" Simon asked, studying his patient closely.

"Fine," Mal said, then visibly winced. He lifted his hand to shade his eyes.

Snapping off the overhead lights, Simon shoved them back out of the way. "You didn't convince me that was the truth," he said, pulling out his penlight.

With an unduly irritated glare at Simon, Mal sighed. "Okay. I feel like someone poured caustic acid through every blood vessel in my head."

"That I believe," Simon said, flashing the penlight across the captain's pupils. He tried to jerk away.

"You don't seem surprised to be waking up here, son," Book inserted. Simon wondered at the tone of amusement in his voice.

Mal squinted at the Shepherd. "Well… no. You said we'd be freed, and… umm…" He scowled with concentration.

"And what?" Book nudged with a chuckle Simon didn't understand.

"And… and… uh, that we'd go to… our place in _Serenity_?" Mal finished it as a question. Simon glanced at Book, wondering at the broad grin on the Shepherd's face.

Book chuckled again. Mal frowned, staring hard at him with confusion reading clearly on his face. "Yes, that is what I said, but do you recall _exactly_ the way I gave you that message."

After a blank moment, a look of complete and utter disgust passed over the captain's face. Book laughed loudly.

"Oh, I had you figured right from the start, captain," Book said, still laughing and wiping his eyes. Simon looked back and forth between them, baffled. "The word is 'peace' in every other version. It's only 'serenity' in the Twenty-third Century Reformed edition." Mal groaned and turned his head away.

"Could you give us some time alone, Shepherd?" Simon interrupted, still uncertain what was going on between the two, but knowing it was upsetting his patient.

Book's laugh was broad and deep as he turned away toward the door. "Right down to the denomination," Book added, still chortling as he slid the infirmary doors closed behind him.

Simon turned back, the question automatically rising to his lips immediately stifled by the captain's expression. Instead, he said in a brisk, doctorly tone, "So, seeing as I have you here, more or less at my mercy, I thought we could have a personal chat."

The captain groaned again. "Won't that be fun," he said with a heavy sigh. Simon quelled a smile.

"What did they do to you, captain?" Simon asked seriously.

"Nothing," he answered, giving a faint shudder. Bad recollections?

"There's some serious bruising around your wrists," Simon said, studying him intently.

Mal glanced down, then shook his head. "They're just a little… forceful. It's not nothing."

Simon sometimes suspected the captain used that plethora of double-negatives on purpose to add a level of confusion to his listeners. It worked. Shaking his head, Simon said, "There's more to it, Mal, and I need to know what. They shot you and Zoe with a fairly standard sedative. We even have it here on _Serenity_. Zoe came out of it with no problem--other than a latent tendency to giggle, which was somewhat disturbing on its own merit--but you it practically put into a coma. What happened on that cruiser? What, exactly, did they do?"

"Just lots of talk and a few drugs," Mal said. He rubbed his temple. It must be bad, Simon thought. He had noticed the captain wasn't in any rush to get up and leave.

"I'd give you something for that headache, but I just don't dare, not until I find out more," Simon said. Mal glanced over questioningly at the IV line running into his left arm. Simon shook his head. "That's just fluids. No drugs. Just helping your system flush out whatever's in it. Which would be…?"

"Couldn't tell you, doc. They didn't let me read the labels, and they weren't too damned concerned with my health when they were mixing them all together," Mal said.

"Captain," Simon paused, wondering if he ought to wait until the man had recovered more before bringing up this point. No. It was too important. "Did they question you about River and me?"

"Oh, yeah. You were the warm-up act," Mal said. "Don't worry. I didn't tell 'em nothing."

Again with the perplexing double negatives. "Are you sure?"

The flicker of doubt that ran across the captain's face chilled Simon. He'd expected Mal to answer with his typical cocky certainty.

"Yeah," Mal said, his gaze turning inward and his tone not at all confident. Then, more certainly, "Yeah. If I'd'a told 'em anything I'd still be there chained to a wall 'til they pumped me dry. Or dead…" his eyes suddenly did a quick glance around the infirmary.

"Yes, you're really here," Simon said, trying hard to sound soothing though he was, himself, a bit shaken. Chained to a wall? And that was classified as 'nothing'? "I'm… I'm asking, captain," Simon said, trying hard not to stumble over the words, "because I ran several sets of bloodwork on you." He hesitated. "And… well, I have to tell you, though I couldn't conclusively identify the substances in your bloodstream, I can say that some of the results… well, they were very much like the results I've gotten from tests I've run on River."

Mal looked shocked. Understandably so, Simon thought.

"The intensity of the results did decrease between tests," Simon added hastily, "so I can tell you that it does seem to be wearing off…" He stopped. The captain wasn't listening. He'd gone someplace internal, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

"Sonuvabitch," Mal said. "Blue…" Simon felt another chill as the captain said faintly, "Two by two…" Mal's eyes slid past Simon toward the door. An absolute down-to-the-spine shudder passed through Simon as the captain whispered, "hands of blue."

Simon's head whipped around. River had cracked the infirmary door open and peered in, her face eerily pale, eyes intense. She and the captain stared at each other. She'd echoed his words.

"Didn't dig. Didn't probe," River chanted. "Just squeezed." She shook herself and Simon saw her grin, looking like a not-so-eerie girl again. "Ya done good, cap'n," she said, then spun away.

"Thanks," Mal muttered, then murmured a string of cuss words so intense that they would have had Simon blushing at any other time.

"What…?" Simon was at a loss for words.

The captain shook his head, seeming a bit at a loss himself. "I think I met River's blue hand guys. Sonuvabitch."

"Those… those… aren't real," Simon said. "That's just…"

"Real enough for government work," Mal said. He shook himself again. "I am well and truly creepified now." He looked up at Simon. "And I'm thinking you ought to pay more heed to what that girl says. Sonuvabitch. Um… doc… who makes that sedative you were talkin' about?"

"Well, I'm not sure," Simon said, turning away to find a vial. He looked at it, then held it out toward Mal. "Blue Sun."

"Sonuvabitch," Mal said again. He sounded like he was stuck in a loop… like River sometimes did. "Blue Sun again."

"They manufacture a lot of pharmaceuticals. This is one I give to River quite often. Why? What are you thinking?" Simon asked.

"I'm thinking we shouldn't buy stuff made by Blue Sun anymore." The captain looked up at him and gave a shrug. "And I'm thinking you shouldn't be giving that drug to River anymore either." He rubbed his temple again.

"You want something for that pain?" Simon asked reflexively, too overloaded to process all that had passed in the last few minutes.

"Really, really not," Mal said. "Just unhook me from this 狗屎--" he gestured toward the IV "--and let me out of here."

"Um… okay… sure…" Simon stuttered. "But we, uh, need to discuss this more. And I'll need to run some more tests, and…" It didn't take but a glance at the captain's face to see that wasn't going to happen.


	23. Chapter 23: Fallout

**Blue Sun Job: **_Fallout_  
靑日 Job: _Fallout_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 23 **

Mal paused at the bottom of the stairway, just letting his hand rest for a moment against _Serenity_. Despite the preacher's message to him in that cruiser, he truly hadn't expected ever to see her again, not _Serenity_, nor any of the folks aboard her. Being back, and free... it did seem a bit, well... providential.

"Captain?"

The preacher's voice came from the corner by his room. Mal took a steadying breath before turning.

"You got a wicked sense of humor, preacher," Mal said.

Book chuckled, but did look a mite contrite. "I do apologize. I confess I yielded to temptation to taunt you a bit. It's a fault I'm still working on. And you do seem to bring out a bit of the very devil in me."

"Yeah. It's a gift of mine," Mal said shortly. Best to nip this in the bud. "Listen... whatever 狗屎 I was fed as a youngun don't mean nothing in the here and now. I told you before, don't go making me your mission."

The look Shepherd Book gave him was long and measuring…and unconvinced. "Of course," he said slowly. Mal turned and took a couple trudging steps up the stairs. The preacher caught him with, "But..."

Mal closed his eyes and sighed. He wasn't up to any more verbal sparring just now. His head absolutely throbbed. Cripes, was this what Simon was doing to his sis without even realizing it? The thought, and what Simon had said, made him feel creepy all over again. Mal put his hand up in a small sign of surrender. "Preacher, I just ain't up for any..."

"I know," Book cut in. "But what I mean to say is, while I certainly won't pester you--make you 'my mission', as you say--if, or when, you want or need to talk to someone... well, I'll understand better than you might think, and I do mean things other than religion."

Mal scoffed softly. "Hmph. Things like how you know old military codes--codes that, far as I know, were only used on the Independent's side of the fight? Or how you can get your hands on top secret drugs? Or how it is you know so gorram much about police procedures? Or how a preacher can shoot straight from the hip? Or identify sniper rifles by the size of the hole in a fella's head? Or how you can figure how to spring folks from the gorram Alliance itsownself? Even without waving that piece of magic plastic of yours that turns the Feds into your lap dog? Them sort of things, preacher?"

Book gave Mal a gentle, unflustered smile. "Yes. Those sort of things. But more. Things like how to live, in peace with yourself, with all the things a man has done and lived, how to live with all of the past burdens."

Mal rubbed his eyes. "I am purely weary of folks trying to get into my head."

"That's not going to change, captain. Best you accept that. The people on this boat care about you. Every part of you. Just as much you care about them and want to keep them safe. They were willing to risk their lives and their freedom on your behalf--every single one of them. And that's not because you hired them, or pay them, or any other reason other than it was the right thing to do."

"Was it?" Mal asked quietly.

"Hmmm?"

Mal looked at the preacher. "The right thing to do?"

* * *

Wash didn't need to hear the voice or familiar footsteps to know who was climbing the stairs to the bridge. Zoe's sudden change in manner--straightening into a more military posture--told Wash her captain was up and back on duty. 

"Sir," she said by way of greeting. Well, that didn't take long.

Mal nodded to both of them, then collapsed into the co-pilot's seat, staring out the windows.

"So," Mal said, heaving a sigh. "I suppose we're all fugitives now."

"Hmmm?" Wash could hear Zoe's surprise. "No, sir. Didn't anyone tell you?"

He looked over at her, shaking his head. "I ain't seen nobody but Simon and Book and they both had other matters on their minds. You saying we ain't being pursued by every Fed in the 'verse?"

"No, sir, not at all," Zoe said. "Best I can tell, we're in the clear."

Mal stared at her. "Huh? How is that possible?"

Through no doing of yours, _sir_, Wash thought, stabbing unnecessarily at some controls. Zoe shifted a bit from where she leaned against the console behind Wash. "I suspect the others will want to do the telling of it themselves, but in the short, a lot of money on bribes to bury records, and maybe a touch or two of blackmail. We'll be wanting to avoid Commander Harken from now on, though."

"Well, I hadn't really figured him for my Christmas card list nohow," Mal said, turning back toward the windows. "So... the battle's done."

Zoe nodded. "And we kinda won."

"Whoo hoo," Wash inserted with complete insincerity. It more than irked him how Zoe and Mal ignored, or avoided the key issue here. How could Zoe be in such complete denial?

"So," Mal said, clearly ignoring Wash, "where do we go from here? Where are we headed?"

Zoe answered, "We're on course back to the Shepherd's Sanctuary. They left a good bit of the doctor's gear there, and, well… I thought a day or so to rest might be in order. If that meets with your approval, of course, sir."

"Do you have another destination, _sir_?" Wash asked, gritting his teeth. Zoe gave him an irritated glance but Mal didn't even look at him. Instead he stared out at the stars.

"Yeah," Mal said, sounding more like he was talking to himself rather than to them. "Just point toward the emptiest patch of sky and run at full burn until we're out of fuel."

Wash froze, thinking he'd be changing the locking sequence on the ship's controls as soon as he had an alone moment. He felt Zoe stir by him. "Sir…" she began.

Mal shook himself, looking back over at both of them like he just realized they were there. What was wrong with him?

"Just… belay that order. Just… pretend I never said it." Mal sighed and rubbed his head. "That Sanctuary place… that's fine."

"Lots of things we should just pretend you never said. That the way of it, sir?" Wash let angry sarcasm color his tone.

"Wash!" Zoe admonishing him, of course.

Mal scowled at him. "You got a problem here, Wash?"

"Well, yes sir, a little bit."

"What?"

"It's nothing, sir," Zoe said, giving Wash a warning look.

"Didn't sound like nothing to me," Mal said. He looked hard at Wash and demanded "What is the problem?"

Wash stabbed at some more controls. "Just hoping for some helpful words about how it is you came to be offering up confessions to the Feds on behalf of my wife."

"That was…" Mal started.

"Captain did what he had to do," Zoe cut in.

"And how is that?" Wash demanded. "He wants to foul up his own life, that's his business. He can go confess to all the Feds he wants. Hey! Confession's good for the soul. Wanna confess some more I can drop you off at a nice Fed station somewhere, but let us burn hard the other direction first." He was on an uncontrolled roll and knew it, but didn't care. Things needed saying. He glared at Mal. "You go ratting on my _wife_, and getting her sucked down into your mess and it's not just your life, _sir_, it's hers and it's mine too. You ever think of that?"

Mal didn't say anything. He stared fixedly at Wash in that coldly angry way of his.

Zoe shook her head. She was furious too and not hiding it either. "Husband. You will stow that 狗屎 right now. The captain did what he had to do and that's all there is to it. So just stow it!"

Knowing intellectually that he should just stop and let it go--for the sake of his continued marriage, if not his outright life--Wash couldn't and didn't. Too much. Too much had built up and it needed to blow.

"You don't know that," he said, jabbing a finger toward Zoe. "You're going along on that blind obedience 狗屎. Again. Captain says it and you do it. He screws you and you just say 'yes sir' and take it. I've had enough of it."

Two very deadly people stared icy death at him and he didn't care. While Zoe was still giggly relaxed girl, Wash had had an interesting tidbit of information innocently dropped on him by Inara--something about how Zoe and Mal had known each other since they were kids, all the way back on Shadow. Now how was it that Inara knew this and the only-the-husband didn't? Old army buddies… How many old army buddies gave each other tender farewell kisses? What the hell else didn't he know?

"You know," Wash said in Zoe's general direction, but watching Mal as he spoke, "you've talked about wanting to have a baby. Well, you're right. We should. Let's do that. We'll have a whole bunch of kids. But we get off this ship and settle down somewhere first. Hey! I hear they're re-terraforming Shadow. Should be lots of land we can get there cheap." He gone too far, and somewhere inside knew it. But at this very moment he was glad to finally get the last word in.

Zoe let him have it, not saying another word; just turned on her heel and left the bridge. Mal continued to stare at him, expression fixed, eyes hard and unblinking.

Low, Mal said to Wash in a tone that promised slow death. "What passes between you and Zoe is your business. And you can say damned near anything you want to me--in private. But not that. Never that. Not to me. And not to Zoe."

Mal stared at him a moment longer, then stood and left Wash alone on the bridge.

What the hell had happened on that planet?

* * *

Mal kicked open the ladder to his bunk and climbed down, surprised to see Zoe standing by the filing cabinet, straightening things. The cabin looked like a cyclone had gone through--a Fed cyclone. Everything had been tossed. And a good bit of the guns seemed to be missing. 

He sighed. Seemed to be a lot of sighing going around. Zoe leaned back against the cabinet and looked at him coolly.

"Really think this is where you ought to be just now?" Mal asked as he crossed to the bed.

"That's my business," Zoe said tautly.

"Yeah. But I'm thinkin' it's a mite bit mine too, just at this very juncture." Mal dug through piles on the floor, hunting for some clothes. He wanted to change out of this red prison-wear 狗屎 and at least try to feel some normal. Not that that was like to happen any time soon.

"Wash doesn't know what he's saying," Zoe said. More sighs. "I'll have to deal with that later."

"Fight it out, or fuck it out?" Mal said, coming up with a reasonably clean shirt in a comfortingly brown color. He yanked off the red tee and tossed it in the corner.

Zoe almost but not quite chuckled. Wash had hit far sorer spots than he even realized. "Or some combination of the two."

"Best you for-real talk it out for a change," Mal said, Zoe's calm helping drain some of the itching-to-kill anger out of him. "Finally have yourself a real confession."

Giving him a warning glare, Zoe said, "I want to confess I'll go talk to the preacher."

Mal rolled his eyes. "Well, he is primed for it, let me tell you." He gave her a rundown on the message Book had passed to him on the cruiser, and the nature and form of that message. She chuckled, apparently finding it almost as amusing as the preacher had. "Thinks he's got me all figured now," Mal said. He found a pair of trousers tangled in with the bedding.

"Maybe he has," Zoe said, lifting an eyebrow quizzically.

Mal groaned. "Not you too." He straightened the mattress and sat down, rubbing his temples again. If the throbbing in his head was getting any better, he couldn't tell it.

"Well, I ain't ashamed to say I did a touch of praying there on that cruiser," Zoe said. "For what it's worth." She looked around the cabin with a hint of over-dramatized theatrics. "And what do you know, but here we are free and back on _Serenity_. Miraculous, might say. Kinda like a prayer being answered." Zoe gave him a challenging look.

"You down here to torment me? Or just hiding out from your husband?"

Zoe smiled softly. "Wanted to give you this." She tossed him a small silver object.

Mal caught it, then turned the small disk over and over, looking at it. "What is it?"

"Recording of your interrogations. Monty's nephew gave it to me. Swears it's the only copy," Zoe said. "He was working for us the whole time, you know."

"No, I didn't know. And it sure as hell didn't seem that way to me." Looking up, Mal asked, "So… You listen to this?"

"I did," Zoe said evenly.

"Anybody else listen to it?"

Zoe shook her head. "Only me."

Mal turned the disk over and over again, staring at it. "I say anything incredibly stupid?"

"Oh, yes, sir. Lots of things," she said.

Giving her a scowling glance, Mal said, "Such a comfort."

"You know, when I suggested you might want to bare your soul to someone I didn't figure you'd pick a Fed to do it to." She gave him a quick smile. "You did what you had to do," Zoe said quietly. "And that's the God's honest way of it." She shook her head. "Yes, I know you don't like me saying that, but--well, you know I weren't never near as devout as you, but Mal, I swear… You managing to beat that truth drug as well as you did. I know gorram well what that stuff does. It's like some divine intervention had a hand."

"Well, you may be on to something there, truth to tell--which I kinda have to, still feeling the stuff," he said, enjoying the quick look she shot him. He leaned forward and gave her a small grin. "Shepherd Book got me the counteragent beforehand. I do sometimes have my doubts about how divine he is, but, then, I couldn't speak to that point."

Zoe laughed, shaking her head. "You son of a bitch. Kept that from me, huh? How did he manage…?"

Mal held up a hand to stop her. "I don't know. And don't you go probing. 懂吗?" Mal chuckled slightly. "I'll grant you, though, he is the handiest preacher to have about I've ever known."

"Still," she said, "that only helped. You managed the most of it on your own. They almost had us all and you managed to pull us out of it."

"At the cost of fifteen years each in one of their jails," Mal pointed out.

Zoe looked away. "At that cost to you. And I know better than anyone what being locked up means to you. But you did it to save my husband, and for that I'm grateful."

"And Kaylee, and River and Simon. Don't want them paying for my mistakes," Mal said. "Don't want you to either, but I didn't see no other way out of it."

"Well, it's nice to know you feel free to sell me out to the Feds without hesitation as the play calls for it," she said, smiling softly to cushion the words. She was speaking ironically and he knew it. No anger between them.

Mal gave her a faint grin. "Had to make a choice."

"Of course. You made the right one," Zoe said. Their eyes met and held and Mal knew they both understood and accepted fully the way of it. "Harken was on our side, too," Zoe added thoughtfully.

"Huh? How you figure that? You gone nuts?"

Zoe's eyes sparkled at him. "He was totally on our side. Didn't you get that? As much as a Fed could be, at least." She looked at Mal intently. "He let you get away with that pure 狗屎 about River, taking care not to notice when that nice slow drawl of yours kinda drifted away later on. Mal… Harken didn't want the Tams found on _Serenity_. That would mean he missed them the last time through. Did we really clean up this boat of any trace of them that well? Or was Harken making sure the evidence wasn't found?"

"Well..." Mal paused and tried to consider it. He grimaced. "I don't know. That crap they shot me with is still confounding me some. And I got some serious blank spots in my recollections of the proceedings. I do recollect him being pretty damned rough on me, in that room and out. And he was still lookin' to send us off to prison for a helluva long time."

"Yes, but put it in balance. Harken tried hard to make good on the saving-his-life favor by saving yours. He had us dead to rights, and you know it, and he cut the whole thing off short there at the end." Zoe shook her head and smiled. "Maybe I'll send him a Christmas card. Inscribe it with that thing you called him. That was good--drooling son of a monkey…"

Mal chuckled. "That wasn't even mine. River called me that once."

Zoe grinned. "I'll have to spend more time chatting with that girl."

"I'm thinking a lot of us should. Remind me to talk some of that out with you later when I can think clearer. Some pieces of scary-ass 狗屎 coming together where that little girl is concerned," Mal said.

"Scari_er_, you mean?"

"Mmmm." He dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples again.

"Dinner's in a couple hours. You gonna be able to make it, or do you want me to stall them all off until morning?" Zoe asked.

Mal looked back up. "No. I'll be there."

Zoe straightened up, turning to go. She paused by the bottom of the ladder. She studied him seriously, measuring him much as the preacher just had. "You were about five minutes from breaking there at one point, weren't you?"

"If that," Mal said with a bitter laugh. He hesitated, then said, "You recall that gal the Feds hanged right before they let us loose? I could see that just all of a sudden as clear as if I was still standing there." He met her eyes. "You ever notice how much Kaylee looks like that gal did?"

Zoe stared at him a long time, long enough to make him uncomfortable. "Sir," she said slowly, "That private didn't resemble Kaylee at all."

Breathing steadily and shallowly, Mal held Zoe's stare for a long minute. He tried to think of words to say but none came. Finally he dropped his gaze, closing his eyes and rubbing them. He could feel his hand tremble.

"Mal…" Zoe said softly. He didn't look up. "Don't listen to that recording. Not just yet."

He didn't answer, just nodded. As the door hatch tripped and Zoe's footsteps retreated, Mal searched again for the inward nothingness.


	24. Chapter 24: The Wrong Side of Normal

**Blue Sun Job:** _The Wrong Side of Normal _  
靑日 Job: _The Wrong Side of Normal_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 24 **

As she climbed up out of the captain's quarters, Zoe was deeply shaken. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Wash staring at her from the bridge--seeing her leave Mal's bunk. She froze a moment, then turned away as though she hadn't seen him, away from her husband, and strode off down the corridor and around the corner toward the cargo bay. She couldn't deal with another fight with Wash just now. She couldn't deal with Wash at all just now. Not. Just. Now. It was the problems of the other one that threatened to overwhelm her.

Stopping near the head of the stairs, she leaned against the bulkhead, dropping her head down. Oh, God… When he'd said he wanted to fly the ship out into the Black past the point of no return, she'd been a touch concerned. She knew he'd be troubled and off-balance by everything that had happened. But their conversation had been fine, or near enough to it, until the very end. Mal'd been sorely rattled by the realization that his memories were screwed up, but so was Zoe. Damn it! Mal was strong. He'd get through this. But he needed her now; needed her near and constant.

And she needed him.

This was the problem that drove Wash to his current bout of bloody-minded assholeness. It wasn't Wash's fault, nor even his problem--well, not entirely. It was hers. She had too many husbands. And she was hell-bent on keeping them both.

She'd listened to that recording, though a few times she'd had to stop it and still her own trembling reaction. Wash thought she was so strong… if he could see what mere words could do to her... Zoe'd always thought that it would do Mal good to talk out the things he held inside, but now she wasn't so sure. Harken had led him through every step of the war, but Mal had resisted hard talking about the worst of times. She sure as hell didn't want him listening to it again, not yet, and not alone. Maybe she should have taken the disk back. No… she wasn't his keeper and he wasn't stupid. Well, not usually.

Closing her eyes, she could hear the echo of his words as he spoke about her, and Shadow, and their sometimes contorted life together. He'd told about what had happened to her, when he'd rescued her, in a way she'd never known he even thought about. God… she'd felt her own cold, stony wall slam into place while she listened to that part. The wall of ice was the only thing that would keep her steady, and she had to be steady and strong now because Mal was in trouble and she was the only rock he had to stand on.

But what about her? Who would support her? Wash? He was her husband. But what did that mean? They laughed. They loved. They pleasured each other in exhilarating ways. He was brightness and light and joy--well, not so much right now, but generally speaking. What he wasn't was her support in the darkness, the one who understood and could sustain her in the nothing. The one who was true to her… _loved her?_… was loyal to and sustained her when she was cold and deadly and downright unlovable. That was Mal.

Wash was her other half. And Mal was her other half. Three halves. And, unfortunately for them all, the math just didn't work.

"_And do you love her?" _

"_No."_

The first flat-out lie Harken had caught him on.

"_Zoe, darlin', why are you still arguing this? We're gonna get hitched and that's just the way of it." _

"_Don't you go orderin' me around like I'm some hired hand. I don't answer to you. And why? Do you love me so much, huh? Tell me you love me so much you want to be with me forever. You 'pect me to stay here on this ranch? I don't figure you flying off 'round the 'verse with me for the rest of forever. We've had some fun romps but that ain't cause to go throwing your life away just 'cause you feel guilty." _

_Mal gave a frustrated sigh. "You are the most purely confounding female critter I have ever met. Listen… There's more to being married than… well, what we was doin'. And I don't feel guilty. Well, okay, I do, but that's not the point. Getting hitched to someone ain't about the fun and games and the laughing and the… the rompin'. It's about being true to another soul, loyal to 'em in the no-matter-what even if you don't happen to particular even like 'em at the time." _

"_Like at this very time?" Zoe stared at Mal a long time. "You still ain't said you love me. So why you wanna do this?" _

_He stumbled for the words a moment, then looked away. "'Cause it's the right thing to do."_

With a sigh, Zoe pushed herself upright, feeling weary to the bone. Too many grenades too close to the fire… one was bound to blow pretty soon. Starting down the stairs into the cargo bay, she had no destination. She considered, and dismissed, the idea of the very confessional chat with the preacher she'd tried to push Mal into. The unknowns about the man, and the religiosity, stood as a barricade. Who else was there who could serve as her sounding board? Inara? There was a laugh. She'd lap up every word about the captain, but Zoe couldn't breach Mal's confidences to her. That was his choice to do, or not, as he saw fit, just as Mal didn't breach her confidences to Wash.

Zoe ran through the rest of the list as she trudged downward. Kaylee? The captain's little 'mei-mei'? Troubled herownself about having left three Feds on that doomed shuttle? Uh, uh. Jayne? There was some warped humor waiting to happen--though he'd no doubt enjoy the naughtier parts of the tale. River? Hmm… already crazy, knew what it was like. But, no. She was just a child. Simon? Despite all his smarts and learning he was still too young and ignorant in the nastier ways of the 'verse. No… as it always was, the only one who could understand and accept, usually with just a shared look, was Mal.

It was funny, Zoe thought, running her hand lightly over _Serenity's_ bulkhead. The others didn't question that the captain could be all brooding and troubled at times, but she was expected to be calm, happy, and serene, though she'd lived most of the same nightmares he had, and a few he hadn't. The crew only saw the Zoe that Wash had made.

Good, and now the 'guilty' was back joining the 'upset'.

What was this? Zoe's hand caught on a misaligned panel. It was one of the small smuggling caches that littered _Serenity_. Damn… Feds had found this one. Which others had they found? Or more significantly, not found?

More pleased than she could admit to herself to have found some task to occupy her, Zoe set about on a methodical inventory of the ship. If you couldn't manage denial, there was nothing quite so good as avoidance.

* * *

Mal tossed the disk over into the tangled mess on his desk without looking at it. He knew why Zoe didn't want him listening to it, at least not yet. She figured he was too freaked out off his nut to cope with hearing all that 狗屎 again. 

She might just have a point, he thought, gulping down a sudden swell of the willies.

A shrink might have something dumb to say about a need to scrub down good, but Mal really just wanted to get the Fed-contaminated feel and smell of jail, and Alliance off of him. Drying off, he put on the cleanest clothes he could find. Pure coincidence it was his uniform trousers and a brown shirt. Really.

Then he set about straightening up the cabin, taking note of what was missing and would need to be replaced--mainly the weapons. They hadn't taken much of the personal gear, just gone through it all. Touching everything. He sorted out a couple photos, carefully restoring them to their place over his bunk. Mal's fingers lingered a moment over one of an old woman by the tree…

Quickly, he turned back to tidying until he reached the desk. Damned disk again. Zoe'd listened to it. Muddled though his recollections were at points, some was vividly clear. She'd heard him talking about her, saying things she'd always just wanted to leave well and thoroughly buried. Now here it all was back up from the dark, buried depths right in their gorram faces. And they couldn't just go out, get blind drunk, punch out and rob a couple Feds, and wake up nekkid together to get over it.

Though, just maybe, all things considered, that hadn't really ever been the best of coping strategies.

Standing in the center of the cabin, Mal turned around slowly. There was nothing left to do and he was all kinds of restless. His head still hurt bad. But he was also craving some coffee and some not-aloneness… even though he also kind of dreaded having to deal with the others. Couldn't put it off forever, though.

Without even a sideways glance toward the bridge, Mal climbed out of his bunk and headed for the dining area. It was straightened up, mostly. Some things disarrayed, some damaged, and some missing. But--damn--it was still here. It was still _Serenity_ and it was still his ship. Right down to the absurdly cute flowers painted on the walls.

Mal felt a flicker of a smile. He supposed Kaylee was about somewhere. Then it occurred to him that he really didn't know who was about. He'd seen Zoe and Wash, of course, and Book, Simon and River. He reckoned Kaylee had been with Book. That left…

"Jayne!" Well. Who'd' a thunk it--that the big-ass mercenary would still be around at all, much less grinning at him like he was actually happy to see him.

"Hey, cap," Jayne said, stepping down into the dining area. He carried a canvas bag, and wore a shiny new Blue Sun t-shirt. Something about that gave Mal a twitch.

"Fancy meeting you here," Mal said carefully as he picked up a pot off the stove. Opening the lid he sniffed. Coffee. The real stuff and reasonably fresh. Pouring a cup, he crossed to sit at the end of the long table, keeping one eye warily on Jayne the entire time.

Jayne's grin faded. "So," he said, striding over toward Mal. "As I hear it, in the area of ratting people out to the Feds, I'm guessing someone is gonna be a little less judgmental."

Mal glanced up over the rim of his cup, giving Jayne The Look until the big ape flinched and broke eye contact. "Yeah, okay…" Jayne muttered, clearly irked that he hadn't won that round. He dropped the canvas bag on the table and opened it up. There was money inside. A pretty damned fair amount of money. Mal looked up at Jayne, baffled, startled, and a touch greedy.

"What…?" Mal started.

"It's what's left from the job," Jayne said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "Ain't near what I started with, but there was… expenses." He grinned at Mal again. "You're a pricy bastard to bail out of a fix."

"You mean you…?" Mal didn't seem able to complete a sentence coherently. Maybe it was the headache. Or maybe he had gone totally off the deep end and he was just imagining Jayne was here giving him money and talking about having helped rescue him from the Feds. Jayne?

Jayne scowled. "What? You didn't think I'd go all out to save your sorry ass?"

With absolute flat sincerity, Mal said, "I never doubted you for a minute, Jayne." He held Jayne's eyes unwaveringly until Jayne grinned again. Mal took a quick gulp of coffee, hoping the burning hotness of it would cover the shudder he could no longer repress. Damned drug. When would the last traces of it wear off?

Dropping his eyes, Jayne's expression turned a little glum. "Yeah, well, Mal… you wouldn't have been wrong if'n you had doubted me. I did myownself. But just for bit," he added defensively. "See, 'bout the time you was getting your ass hauled off to that Fed cruiser, I was sitting pretty with a truck-load of cash and the gorram Feds falling all over themselves to please me, thinkin' I was really some highfalutin high-roller."

Mal scowled, concentrating. "You should have been back to _Serenity_ before us. How'd you not get caught?"

Jayne actually blushed. "I was kinda flush with all that cash there at that casino. You know, where I was laundering the coin. There was liquor and women. And I was winning at the gambling!" He looked down, like a contrite puppy dog caught puddling the floor. "And there was a lot more liquor… and, uh, I kinda missed the meet. Guess I started a fight. Or finished one, I dunno. Passed out and woke up in some fancy-ass jail with them all apologizing to me for locking me up." Jayne looked sternly at Mal. "You know them Feds ain't such bad fellers, you stay on their good side."

"Yeah, they're real sweathearts," Mal said. "So, what, then? You contact Book or he contact you?"

"Huh? Oh, hell no, Mal. Ain't nobody told you? It was Inara pulled it all together," Jayne said.

It was a good thing Mal was sitting down already, he thought. "Inara? But she…"

"Is still here," a soft voice sounded. Mal looked up as Inara swept down into the dining room. Mal gaped. Jayne snorted with amusement.

Watching as she crossed to the kitchen, acting like she'd never left and like nothing had even happened, Mal said, "What the hell…?"

"I went on over to her high-priced whorehouse--" Inara scowled at Jayne but he just gave her a wink and kept talking. Mal felt like he was in some bizarre fun-house dream sequence. "--and got the ball rolling on getting you and the others out of that fix." Jayne looked at him intently. "_I did_, Mal."

"He really did," Inara said quietly, pouring herself a cup of coffee, grimacing at it, then poured it back and started to fix herself some tea. "I knew you'd been arrested but didn't know what I could do about it. Jayne started everything going."

"And the best part," Jayne said eagerly, "I had to hide out in that there Companion house for a couple days." He grinned broadly, then leaned over to whisper--loudly--to Mal. "I had me a Companion," he said, giving Mal a comradely smack on the arm.

Mal rubbed his arm. It hurt. His eyes flicked from Jayne over to Inara as she swept over to the table.

"Not. Me." Inara said, managing to make each word drip with more contempt, disgust, and venom than Mal would have thought humanly possible… less'n, of course, she was talking about him. And yet the look that passed between Jayne and Inara wasn't at all hostile, more friendly and conspiratorial.

"Yeah," Jayne said, "Not 'Nara. One of the other gals." He leaned back close again and whispered--again, loudly, "I'm telling you, Mal. Them Companions… they got _techniques_." Then even louder, giving a significant glance at Inara. "Techniques. Ow! Whatcha hit me for?" Jayne growled at Inara.

"It's one of the techniques," she said sternly, but, again, the look between them was nothing but, well… Mal could say 'companionable', but he didn't.

Jayne grinned. "Anyhow, cap, you can just figure I already spent my cut and then some. I won't be needin' no more of a cut."

When had the 'verse turned itself completely upsidedown and on end? Mal couldn't even manage an answer, just nodded vaguely. "So… um… What…?"

Inara gave him a soft smile. He had to glance away.

"Commander Harken told me _Serenity_ had already been sold. How…?" Mal gestured around.

"I bought _Serenity_," Inara said very softly.

Mal stared at her. He blinked. "You bought my ship."

Inara grinned at him, a touch wickedly if he was reading her right. She reached into the folds of her robes and pulled out a leather folder, sliding it down the table toward him.

"I bought your ship," she said smiling. It was way too obvious she was enjoying upsetting him.

"That's… um… why you're still here?" He asked. She bought his ship. _Her_ ship. What was that notion about getting dropped off at a Fed station to confess all? Or was this just part of the having gone totally off his tracks.

"Of course," Inara said. "Can't leave my own ship." Then she softened her taunting expression into seriousness. "Mal… you've got a clean set of updated registration documents there in front of you--good to use at any Alliance checkpoint we might pass. But the actual change of ownership didn't go all the way through. _Serenity's_ still yours."

He swallowed. It was all a lot to take all at once, on top of everything else. "How…?" Couldn't think straight. Couldn't talk straight. Mal glanced at Jayne. "How the hell much money you make at that casino?"

"Not enough to buy the gorram ship," he said.

"Mal, I fenced the Lassiter," Inara inserted.

Mal dropped his head into his hands, wishing the throbbing, and the shocks would just quit coming.

"And it's a damned good thing she did," Zoe's voice came from behind him. Mal turned to see her step down into the dining room. "Feds found the cache where it was hidden." Zoe sat down at a chair down the table a ways. She looked over at Mal with a measuring meeting of their eyes. "I told Inara where it was before we headed out on the mission. I asked her to fly cover for us, if worst came to worst. And it did."

Mal stared at Zoe a minute more. "That it did." He looked away, shaking his head. "Well… good… It's all _good_." He picked up the leather folder, more to have something to do than any interest in reading the documents. "Fine." He looked up at Zoe, Inara, and Jayne. "We're gonna be hashing some of this out later on, but for now… well, let's just say I'm grateful to each and every one of you and leave it at that." Mal stared at the document, then stared again. Huh? "琐细," he said, looking up at Inara. "Suoshee. 琐细. You named my ship 'Petty'?"

Inara had the grace to blush. "I was in a rush and it was just the first thing that came to mind."

If anything, the headache was getting worse. Mal took a deep breath. "So… we're out and free, and not fugitives, and that ain't nothing. But it cost us the score from the Lassiter, and most of the damned Blue Sun loot." He peered in Jayne's canvas bag of cash. It looked to be good for about one good refuel and refit, but they still had to resupply and rearm, plus replace and repair whatever else the Feds had taken or destroyed. "So our net loss…"

_Kerthunk!_

Mal stared blankly at the familiar damned engine part that had been dropped on the table in front of him. He tilted his head up, a warm smile coming over his face. "Kaylee, mei-mei."

She wrapped herself around him, squeezing hard. He squeezed back just as hard. Kaylee slid herself down onto his lap, holding on tight. "I was so scared, cap'n," she whispered in his ear. "So scared I'd never see you or _Serenity_ again."

"Me too, honey," he whispered back. He nudged her back a touch. She stood back up, keeping a hand on his shoulder. He covered that hand with his, giving a small sigh. Inara and Jayne, even Zoe, were giving 'em kinda melty looks but he didn't much mind at this very minute.

"So, Kaylee," Mal said briskly, patting her hand. "Don't tell me we've blown another catalyzer. 'Cause even I don't believe our luck could be purely that bad."

"Ain't," she said with a grin. "Look closer. You wouldn't want to hook that one up to _Serenity's_ engine, cap'n."

He stared at the part, then at Kaylee, then at the part again. "Platinum?" he whispered, hardly daring to say it out loud.

"Yuppers," Kaylee said, beaming. "Seems the gorram Feds didn't think a crate of ratty old Firefly parts was worth confiscating. Got a whole bunch more down below."

"I'll. Be. Damned." Mal said. "Looks like we just might break even on this whole mess. But now, y'all gotta fill me in on just what-all transpired here. How'd we get from being hauled down to a Fed prison to ending up back here on _Serenity_…"

* * *

Zoe sat quietly and listened as the others drifted in--all save Wash who still seemed to be busy on the bridge--and they all told the tale. Shepherd Book prepared dinner, adding his inserts from the kitchen as he worked. She'd heard the parts, but not the whole. Good bunch, she thought. Damned good bunch, pulling together when it would have been a helluva lot easier and safer just to have run. 

Jayne had truly started it all, by contacting Inara and shoving her into action. She had the contacts and connections while he had the money for bribes. Book had contacted Monty and coordinated getting his Alliance nephew onto Harken's cruiser and thereby to control the records of the interrogations, and--to an extent--control the content. And to arrange the intercept of the police shuttle.

Mal scoffed. "Bastard didn't let me lie about anything 'cept Monty."

"He was in a precarious situation," Book said. "He couldn't let his own position be compromised."

Zoe watched Mal study the preacher. "And how the hell did you get ahold of Monty? Even to find him, much less talk to him? Monty's a sweet fella, but he'll shoot first if'n he thinks his people are in peril. And he ain't ever met you."

Book smiled. "You asked me to keep an eye on Kaylee. I did. That let me identify two of Monty's crew, and, well, one thing led me to another which led me to Monty."

Staring at him, Mal said, "That still don't tell me how you convinced Monty you was on the up-'n-up."

Giving an odd little gesture with his hands, Book merely shrugged. "I guess he trusts Shepherds."

Zoe stared. Then she turned to stare at Mal. He held her stare. He'd seen it too. Shepherd Book had just flashed them one of the underground's recognition signals.

"Yeah," Mal said evenly. "I'm sure that's it. Monty's kind of a religious fella at heart."

Zoe sat still, letting the implications sink in. Book… part of the underground? Or an infiltrator? Or something else? The signal had been an older one. Argh. Every answer led to more questions. Was he even really a Shepherd? It had been easy enough to dismiss what Simon told them Jubal Early had said. The statement of a psychopathic bounty hunter was not exactly unimpeachable testimony. Book had certainly done them nothing but good so far.

They went on with the story while Book served dinner. Harken's aide had been bought off--burying the records of the charges and convictions for them; keeping the matter out of the central databases and hiding the evidence from Harken himself. Inara had tweaked the judge advocate with a hint of Companionly blackmail to get him to cede to Harken's plea arrangement, and the authorities on Beta--Inara's 'high cover' connections she'd established from the start, also destroyed records at her behest.

Mal sighed as Book set a plate down in front of him. "Seems like half the folks putting us through hell were actually on our side," he said. Zoe saw his gaze turn inward. He fell silent.

When she didn't offer to fetch her husband, or at least take him a plate, Book gently took the matter in hand, fetching Wash in from the bridge. He sat silently beside her, as remote from her as if they were strangers. It tore at her. Speaking of going through hell...

If any of the others noticed that Mal was about half a second behind on some of the laughter, or that neither she nor Wash laughed at all they didn't say anything about it. In fact, the overwhelming sense around the table was one of relief.

Zoe saw Mal visibly cringe when they came to Kaylee's part in the shuttle rescue. "Rigged the engines to blow while Monty's co-pilot set an auto-trajectory and ran a distress call. Feds should think it was a malfunction and they couldn't pull out of the gas giant's gravity well."

It was going to trouble the girl, Zoe knew. And by derivation, it was going to trouble Mal on her behalf, that she'd killed those three guards just as surely as if she pointed a gun at them and pulled the trigger. Zoe saw River flick an odd glance at her. Three and three, Zoe thought. For herself, she'd lost count long ago.

Angry and brooding though he was, Wash couldn't contain himself from participating in the story of River flying _Serenity_. Zoe tried to share in the amusement as they bantered back and forth about her relative flying skills, or--in Wash's opinion--lack thereof. River didn't seem insulted and Wash didn't seem upset with her. Somehow those two had formed their own little bond battling over the controls of the ship. There was also a new chumminess between Jayne and River, as well, that seemed to have improved Simon's view of Jayne too.

The dishes had been cleared and the conversation around the table had split off three different ways, with only Zoe and Mal silent, in their own private, isolated bubbles.

"Well," Mal said out of a brief gap in the conversations. He gave a little shake and stood. "Sorry to leave this fine evening so early, but I am dead tired. I'll… see you all in the morning."

The conversation resumed in a low murmur until they all heard the captain's bunk hatch thunk closed, then a silence drifted down over the gathering.

"Is Mal alright?" Inara asked quietly. Every eye turned toward Zoe for the answer. Why'd they all expect she'd have the answer? She felt Wash's annoyance beside her.

Before she could frame any sort of answer, Jayne cut in with, "Hell, no, he ain't alright. What'd you think? He's crazy as a freakin' loon. More'n normal."

"Jayne!" About three voices at once admonished.

"What?" Jayne said defensively. "Don't tell me you all are so damned stupid you don't see it. Course the cap'n's crazy." Zoe thought she ought to say something, stop him, but for the life of her, he had her stumped as to what to say. Stunned, she just sat and listened as Jayne dissected Mal… and her. Accurately.

"Listen… Mal and Zoe ain't the first Browncoat vets I run with. They ain't even the most screwed up. Half the outlaws roaming the 'verse are their kind and every damned one of 'em is squirrelly one way or another." He leaned forward. "Cap'n just spent three days living his worst nightmare. He's scared enough of getting locked up by the Feds hisownself…"

"Cap'n ain't scared of nothin'!" Kaylee interrupted defensively.

Jayne looked at her solemnly and Zoe was again flabbergasted that this was Jayne who was accurately, if crudely, describing the situation. When did Jayne become insightful?

"The hell he ain't, lil' Kaylee. He knows better'n you and me what them bastards can do. And he ain't said, and he ain't gonna say, but you _know_ they was doing some serious shit to him these past couple days." He looked around challengingly at them all. "Don't you all get it? He ratted out Zoe to the Feds. He'd rather 他妈的 die than do that, and you know it. What the hell you all think could bring Mal to the point where getting him and Zoe locked up for half their lives was the _best_ thing he could do?"

There was an uncomfortable stirring around the table. Zoe didn't--couldn't--look over at her husband, but she felt the intensity of his attention on Jayne.

"Cap'n is terrified right down to his very soul of being locked up by the Feds, yet was willing to do it to save your sorry ass--" he stabbed a finger at Wash "--and yours--" at Kaylee. "And River and Simon and every other damned one of us at this table. Cap'n's got exactly a dozen different worries gnawing at him all the time and I can name each and every one of them." He pointed around the table. "There's us. There's this ship of his. There's his own freakin' crazy self. And the Alliance." Jayne leaned back, looking a touch smug.

"That's eleven," Wash inserted.

Jayne gave him a filthy look. "Yeah, well throw in your twisted-ass attitude about him and your wife and that comes to an even dozen."

Zoe heard Wash's sharp intake of breath, but Book cut him off before he could launch a counter-attack. "That's all strangely perceptive, Jayne," Book said calmly. "But how do you figure the captain is, as you put it, 'crazy'. A lot of people fought in that war. And survived things as horrific as those Mal and Zoe did. Surely you're not saying they're all mad?"

Jayne shrugged. "Haven't met 'em all. I only met the ones turned crook, and to a one they're nuts, and that includes the cap'n and Zoe." Am I even sitting here, Zoe thought staring at him astonished. "Mal's crazy 'cause of the war. But he… what's the word…? manifests that crazy by being a crook. 'Cept he ain't a crook. Well, he is, but he ain't, and that's the problem."

"I'm not following you, Jayne," Book said.

Waggling his finger at Zoe, Jayne said, "You 'member what Badger said that one time? 'Bout how the cap'n ain't a thief. He's a 'man of honor' or some such 狗屎. Well Badger hit that nail right on the head. Cap'n's still a soldier but he's doing all this thieving and something about it don't never sit quite right with him. So he's crazy."

"It's troubles his conscious, you're saying?" Book asked.

"And that creates an irresolvable conflict," Simon inserted.

"So," Book said intently, "What is it you think the captain should do?"

Jayne snorted. "Get the hell over it. He's damned good at thieving when he puts his mind to it. Hell, he just took down the friggin' Blue Sun treasury and got away with it cold. Course he got caught at something else and that's got him more messed up than normal just now, but that ain't the point."

Book seemed to be suppressing a smile at Jayne's attempt at psychoanalysis. "Wouldn't it make more sense for the captain to give up this life of crime?"

"And do what? Knuckle under to the Alliance? He ain't gonna do that. He's still fighting the damned war. And he will 'til the day they kill him."


	25. Chapter 25: In Trouble

**Blue Sun Job: **_In Trouble _  
靑日 Job: _In Trouble_

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap

**

* * *

Chapter 25 **

Zoe wasn't too surprised to see Mal sitting alone on the catwalk in the cargo bay. A bottle of Kaylee's homebrew, with only about a third left, sat beside him.

Mal gazed out over the empty space of the cargo bay, staring into the nothing, deep into the heart of the his own internal Black, she knew. It was good to be back, to be home. Mal would be feeling that too, but Zoe also knew he had to have a touch of trepidation at embracing it too near, having come so close to losing it all. When Harken had told them _Serenity_ was gone Zoe had felt his reaction smash into her as hard as though it were her own, and in a way it was. Now he'd be all kinds of reluctant to let anything or anyone get too close again lest it all get yanked away from him once more. She'd been so pleased to see him hug Kaylee so close--she'd been afraid he'd push the girl away, so he wouldn't have to face the possibility of losing her again.

No doubt about it, it had been a close one. But, of course, they got away… survived… pulled off the damned heroic last minute rescue… Didn't they always? _What colors they flying?_ A gorram jolly roger this time, Zoe thought. No damned colors but their own.

He couldn't have heard her bare footsteps, but must have felt her presence arrive behind him, stepping into her place beside him. With the merest trace of a smile, Mal regarded her. Zoe let the sense of their connection lap over her like waves, soothing her even as it threw her a little off balance.

"What are you doing down here?" he asked.

"Same as you I imagine," she said, settling down beside him, feet dangling over the edge. The freedom to swing her bare feet in the air like a kid on a swing, the rush of air between her toes... Now that was a curious thing to notice, that was. "Bunk just seemed a little…"

"Confining?"

"Um hmm." Confining. Enclosing. Dark. Restricting. When Wash had finally fallen asleep he'd draped his arm over her waist in an unconscious gesture. Zoe thought the constricting feel of it might suffocate her. It was no wonder Mal had sought out the largest open space on the ship too.

Zoe gave the near-empty bottle a long look. "You drink all that so far?"

Mal gave her a soft chuckle and a sideways glance. She knew he recognized her deceptively mild fretting-in-an-official-capacity tone of voice. "Nah. Ain't even had a drop. This is all the liquor I could find left on this boat. It's not near enough."

Zoe examined him critically. "How are you? Really?"

"I'd rather not answer that," he said, a smile barely twitching the corners of his mouth. "Flat-out lies are still giving me the crawlies."

He looked wholly exhausted. Sleep, she had no doubt, was not behaving in a particularly restful way just at this very time. She hadn't even tried to sleep, just faked it until Wash gave up on the fighting and fell asleep himself.

"Well," she said carefully, giving a small sweep of her hand to encompass the expanse of _Serenity's_ cargo bay, "guess I'm glad to find you down here and not up on the bridge flying us out into the nothing."

"Subtle," he said with a low snort. "Don't worry. I ain't gonna do anything that crazy. You know… probably. 'Sides," he added, "Wash locked the controls."

Zoe scrutinized him hard. "Now I don't know which disturbs me more, that he did that without permission, or that you were at the controls and found out they were locked. Or…"

"That you didn't think of it yourself?" He finished her thought. She nodded. "Let's just pretend he did it on account of River and her newfound flying skills and let it go at that." Mal flashed her a quick, mischievous grin. "And I put in a backdoor override on the lockout long ago."

Smiling, Zoe said lightly, "And I'm back to being disturbed."

Thoughtfully, Mal said, "That's a good crew we got. Never would have figured that exact set of 'em for pulling off a major rescue op like that. I truly thought we were done for."

"Me too. And, yes, they are. Loyal. Watching our backs. Jayne most surprised me," she said.

"You and me, both." Mal said. "That whole work-in-progress thing's making him to be a bit more… _complicated_ than he used to be."

"Yeah. 'Complicated' could be one word for it," Zoe said, scowling. "He had the damnedest things to say after you left the table."

"Do I wanna know?"

Zoe shook her head. "I'm not sure. It was weird, but not wrong."

"Well," Mal said with a sigh. "It's been a Jayne-weird sort of day. What dazzling insights did he come up with?"

"You'd have liked the newest chapter in the Legend of Vera. Inara couldn't get back most of what was confiscated, but she did buy Vera back. Cost a pretty penny, too. So now Jayne says, 'a high-priced whore thought so much of his weapon that she bought him the best gun in the 'verse.' Inara hit him again."

Mal laughed. The sound made Zoe smile with a hint of relief.

Her smile faded. "But that was after he got done taking you and me apart. He was in rare form, I tell you. And 'insights' is just what it was," she said, swinging her feet back and forth off the edge of the catwalk platform. "He figures we're both crazy on account of the war. But that you're extra-special crazy 'cause you ain't really a thief at heart yet you're doin' all this robbing." She shook her head and chuckled. "I dunno… I guess maybe he figures me as a natural-born crook." She glanced over at Mal, puzzled. "Did I lead you astray?"

"Many a time," he said with a quick grin. "But, no. I came to the thieving on my own, and you know it." He gave her a sudden, serious look. "But you didn't never try to talk me out of it."

She shrugged. "Anyhow, just when the preacher was pushing the notion that you ought to give up this life of crime--no surprise there--Jayne puts out his brilliant theory to solve all your problems."

"I shudder to ask, but…"

"Jayne says, and I do quote, the captain just needs to 'get drunk, and get laid.'"

Mal choked. "The man is a poet. And I take back the 'complicated' comment." Picking up the bottle, he sloshed the contents. "Ain't enough of the one," he scanned around the ship, "and ain't no candidates for the other, so I guess I'll just have to stick with the crazy for a while."

Zoe hesitated, then said, "Well… there's Inara…"

"I can't afford her rates," Mal said tersely.

Gazing over toward her shuttle, Zoe chose her words carefully. "Just a hunch, but I'm thinking she might not be adverse to…"

"What? A sympathy 他妈的? No thanks."

"Mal… it wasn't me she was working so hard to save." He aimed a 'stow it' look at her; a direct order delivered with just a flick of his eye. "Yes, sir," Zoe relented. Doomed though she believed any long term relationship between Mal and Inara would be, for now, just temporarily, as a stress reliever…

Mal studied Zoe a moment, then turned back away to the open space of the cargo bay. "Speaking of which, sorta figured you to be all hot and heavy into the make-up sex 'bout now."

Zoe let out a sigh. "Not so much."

"Anything you want to talk out?" he asked.

With another sigh, Zoe said, "Talkin' it out is just the very problem."

"Oh. So… you tried telling him… _things_. And he didn't take it well?"

Zoe shook her head. "It was going good for a bit. He seemed all straightened out and okay about what happened with the Feds and us on the verge of getting sent away to prison and all--and I'll tell you, that was Jayne again got him squared away on how that all went down--but then Wash was asking me about the job, being so sweet and easy about it, you know, just all the 'wacky fun' we had, and what went on while we were down on Beta… in that hotel, with just that one big ol' bed and the nice tub…"

"他妈的 hell, Zoe," Mal burst in. "That's where you decided to start with the whole confession thing? And they all think _I'm_ crazy? Did you get to the 'captain didn't touch your wife any wrong way' part or did you leave it at the cuddled up in bed together part?"

"Well…" she stammered a moment, then, "I tried. But we'd got into the shouting by then and he got going off on Shadow…"

Mal went cold and dark as he looked sharply at Zoe. "What about Shadow? That was more than a mite unsettling what he said before there on the bridge."

Zoe turned away, trying to compose herself again. Her toes curled tight and the free, easy kid-feeling fled. "Somehow he'd gotten a hold of the intel that you and me did know each other back then. Before the war. And what with all the other stuff we'd been arguing about, Wash just kinda jumped to a whole new set of conclusions…"

"_Right_ conclusions?"

Zoe squeezed her eyes closed and nodded rapidly. "Somehow, through the yelling, I did, kind of, admit that the _knowing_ each other was, you might say, _biblical_."

Mal groaned long and slow. Zoe couldn't look over at him.

"Perhaps not the best way to drop that little piece of history on him, I'm thinking," Mal said.

"I know," she moaned. "I'm… I'm sorry, Mal, I just… I been thinking on it. All of it, these past couple days. They were working on me, too, you know. Chained up there alone, in the dark, worrying on what they were doing to you and… the others. And we'd just been back on that cursed moon and all the recollections it brought up back. Hell, you know that. You know… I'm supposed to be so strong, but I listened to that disk, and…"

"Hey," he said softly. "I know." He barely touched her hand with one finger before withdrawing it. Zoe thought she might shatter. Mal pulled the disk out of his shirt pocket and twirled it slowly between his fingers. Zoe's eyes fixed on the silver disk as it caught and reflected the lights. Mal heaved a sigh. "Crap. I was fretting on that. Worrying on you listening to all what I said to Harken. I don't recollect everything clear, but there's parts… You think you've got it all buried nice down deep in the dark, then something yanks it up and out and there it is, smacking you in the face and… and…" He trailed off.

They were both silent a long time. Then a simultaneous glance flicked between them. Understanding.

"I was working on the notion of putting this thing out one of the airlocks," Mal said, dropping it back into his pocket. "Somehow didn't get that far."

"I never heard you talk about a lot of that stuff before," Zoe said, reaching for her own control by shifting her focus of concern back to him.

"Best you never did," Mal said with a small frown "I sure as hell didn't want to. Didn't have no choice. And there's... so much. It's kinda overwhelming to have to deal with all at once on top of everything else." He looked away from her.

"What was it you were thinking about when I first came down here? Specifically?" Zoe asked.

With a dark glare, he said, "Taking your turn at playing shrink? Just can it, Zoe. You got enough to deal with yourownself, don't go lookin' to borrow my problems." He met her eyes, his expression softening a touch. "I'll be fine. Getting through this… it's… This is just something I gotta do for myself."

"No. No, it's not," she said decisively.

Mal gave her a disgusted scowl. "You know, one of these days you are going to have to give me this list you got of things I do and don't gotta do for myself."

Zoe chuckled. "Oh, no, sir. Figuring that out is something you gotta do for yourself."

He rolled his eyes, but gave her a small grin. "I'll tell you," he said, peering back out over the cargo bay, "it's the damnedest thing, with all the 狗屎 that's been going on and all the bad old days brought to mind it, and a whole bunch of new ones thrown on top, but I was sitting here pondering on a Fed. A dead one, no less. One we didn't even kill. Never even met, actually."

"Private Ytteroy," Zoe whispered, suddenly glad he hadn't gone near one of the airlocks.

Mal stared hard at her. "Now that is as purely eerie as it could be. You learn mind reading from River?"

She scoffed softly. "You know I've been able to read your mind for years. And I was remembering that one too."

"It was thinking on that gal who got hanged," he said. "The one you tell me _didn't_ look like Kaylee... and that's still giving me a shiver right to the core that I can't recall that straight. Anyhow, there's that little private, one of our own, and I cannot call her name to mind for the life of me, but a Fed I never even met... that name stuck."

"A Fed who killed himself years after Serenity 'cause he couldn't take the remembering," she said, scared through and through that this was what Mal was down here pondering, alone.

"Hmph. Ain't that something? They were the winners. Had the 'verse by the tail. They were getting welcomed back as conquering heroes while we were losing everything there was to lose and then some, getting the 狗屎 thrashed out of us 'cause we lost, locked up not knowing if they'd ever let us out, our own still dying and getting killed around us," Mal scowled at her, "and that Fed couldn't live with the memories."

"Can you?" Zoe asked abruptly. Hopefully--probably--she was reading too much into this, but she had to be sure. Had to.

"What?"

"Live with it?"

Mal spread his hands out. "Seem to be."

Zoe hesitated, then decided that it was time to push the matter. Seven years they'd held the silence between them about the crushing moment when they lost the battle, and the war, and every other damned thing, and Mal had lost even more than she had. Sometimes unspoken understanding wasn't enough.

Though it was difficult for her, Zoe held Mal's eyes as she said, "I heard you tell Harken to put a bullet in your brain if he managed to get you to tell him about Serenity Valley. And later on, you did tell him. Convince me you're fine with it. Convince me it ain't eatin' at you. That you ain't seeing it all over again in your head each and every minute. Convince me."

Zoe read cold truth in his eyes before he broke away. "Let it go, Zoe. I'll manage, like I always have."

"No, sir. I ain't letting it go. Not this time. It's not just you and me anymore. We can't just fall back to drinking ourselves senseless and… other things." A guilty glance flicked between them. "That wasn't 'managing'. That life was just a suicide mission being run out in slow motion. And we just happened not to hit the big damn end point because somehow you had enough wits about you to get a hold of this ship and fill it with people like Wash and Kaylee. And now you just had the responsibility for their lives, or deaths, smacked in your face again right along with the forced remembrance of all the others who… Mal, there's other folks now that need you to really _be_ okay, not just pretending while it all eats you alive inside."

"Zoe," he said, not hiding his irritation from her, "I told you not to go borrowing my troubles and I mean it. I'm back on my own boat, home and free. Everyone is alive and more-or-less well. I got the comfort of knowing there's good folks around me watchin' my back when I didn't even know they were. It's all good. Not like it was those years back. Not dwelling on none of bad stuff. Not really. Leastwise not for more than this one night of contemplating on why some gorram Fed couldn't live with winning. I'm telling you, convincing you, that I am not pretending to be okay. I am okay."

"Liar," she said. "I saw that shudder. This _Serenity_ didn't undo what _that_ Serenity did--we took that with us and always will. It's like those Feds said, we never leave."

With an angry look at her, Mal said, "Well enough, then. What the hell do you suggest? Huh? What is, is. Can't go back and rewrite history to make it all purty and shiny." He let out an exasperated sigh. "All right… I never could lie to you any good. And sometimes that is purely frustrating as hell. Fine. Yes. You're right. I can't get it out of my head and it's like to drive me crazy… _er_." His voice dropped and she saw him look inward. "They had me to the point of hallucinating there with the sleep deprivation and all the damned drugs," he said, shaking his head and Zoe knew he was seeing the images again. "But sleepin' weren't no better, what with the nightmares coming back and Kaylee and River getting featured roles in some of the worst of them..." He shivered, then looked at her with a wistful smile. "But that's life--my life, sad to say. And there's no cure for living but to… _live_. Unless you got some other bright notions."

Tilting her head, she decided to throw the he-was-never-gonna-take-it suggestion out first. "Well… there are things Simon could give you that…"

"他妈的 no! Let that quack do to me what he does to River? I have had more than my thorough fill of strange chemical 狗屎 getting pumped into me these past few days. No. Hell, no."

"Then we talk it out," Zoe said resolutely. "No more denial. No more avoidance. No more you-know and I-know so we just don't say the words. We talk."

"You're turning around and doing to me what I told you to do with Wash," Mal said. "And look how that's turned out."

Zoe nodded slowly. "Yes, it's tough, so far, but," she looked up at him, "you weren't wrong. And it's got to be easier between you and me 'cause there's no secrets. No hidden history."

Mal studied her a long time. "You think this would help you, too, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Holding his eye, she couldn't remember the last time she felt this vulnerable. No, she could remember, and it was Mal that saved her then. "Yes," she said.

* * *

"Well this here is just a scenario chock full of the guilties waitin' to happen," Mal muttered low to Zoe as she stepped into the largest of the unoccupied passenger dorms. "I still think this is a bad idea every which way it can be, Zoe." 

"It's comfortable and private. No one would think to go lookin' for us here," she said tossing an audio player down in the middle of the double bed.

"Right," Mal said sarcastically. "'Cause no one who's already got suspicions roaming through his head would think to look for us in an out-of-the-way place with a big ol' bed in it. Nor jump to every manner of wrong conclusion if'n he showed up." Still, he stretched out on half the bed while Zoe sat with her feet tucked under her on the other side. Wrong thinking though it may be, he couldn't help but feel at bit more at ease again. Now, if she'd just stretch out near by--didn't need no touching, just the nearness--he might just be able to catch a few hours of truly peaceful sleep.

"Got the disk?" Zoe asked.

Mal reached into his shirt pocket and flipped it to her. "Should have put it out a lock whilst I was thinking of it," he said. "Revisiting all this…" He shook his head. "I don't know, Zoe… you truly think this is a good thing to do?"

Zoe hesitated as she moved to put the disk in the player. "I do." She took a deep breath. "For better or worse, here we go." She hit the play button.

Scowling, Mal wondered if she'd actually heard the words she'd just said.

"River Tam on Londinium," Zoe snorted a few minutes later as they listened to the beginning portion of the recording. She glanced up at Mal. "Does the word 'lame' mean anything to you?"

"Hey, it worked." He frowned at the recollection. "You know River's 'two by two, hands of blue'?" Zoe nodded, hitting the pause. "I think them fellas were there."

Zoe stared. "You serious? That's a real thing she's going on about?"

"Yeah. What's more, they're the ones gave Harken that drug. Now, I couldn't read the label, but I sure as hell saw the Blue Sun logo," Mal said, more pieces coming together for him even as he spoke. "And Simon told me--and this part is creepifying me every which way--that blood tests he did on me, when I was out earlier, came back looking like ones he'd done on River."

"Eeww," Zoe said.

"You said it," Mal said. "And there's more. I thought of this when I saw Jayne at dinner, in that Blue Sun shirt--you recollect what he was wearing when River whacked him with that butcher's knife?"

"Blue Sun, again," Zoe whispered. "And the cans she took all the labels off of…" She looked up at him.

"And we got in this deep Fed trouble 'cause it was Blue Sun property we was smuggling and they're Alliance contractors. 'Old battles and Blue Sun' was one of Harken's themes. What's more, the preacher called 'em war profiteers. Now, I don't know about that, but he sure as hell might," Mal said.

Zoe shook her head, looking lost. "I don't even know what to do with all this. Don't know what it all means. Or what we could do about it if it does mean anything."

Giving a shrug, Mal said, "I don't either. It's sure something to keep in mind, though. And just maybe a whole shiny new batch of enemies to steer clear of."

"Yeah," Zoe said, giving him a wry grin, "'Cause we was running short." With a shake, Zoe moved to forward the recording. "Let's skip that part for now--though I did enjoy the part when you told them all just exactly what you thought of them and the Alliance. Very poetical. _Stupid_, to the extreme, considering you were sitting in an Alliance cruiser getting hit by fellas who already didn't like you. But entertaining."

"Glad you liked it," he said.

They listened a moment more. "You killed three Feds in the Shadow revolt," Zoe said softly, more to herself than him. "Three and three and three…"

"Huh?"

She looked over at him. "It's nothing. Just… I remember the first three I killed too," she said softly. "After that…" She shrugged. "Lost count."

Mal remembered her first three too. He hadn't seen her first, killed when her daddy's boat got boarded by the Alliance. The second she'd 'finished off' in that complex, and the third had been a trigger's pull away from taking Mal out when she sunk her blade into his chest. If Zoe noticed they shared another 'you-know and I-know so no words are needed' looks, she didn't comment on it, and wasn't that just the point of this little exercise, Mal thought, admiring the irony despite himself. Zoe hit the play button again.

_Harken's voice, "You didn't need to leave the port on Delta to drop off the Companion. Yet I know you spent several days on Beta. At a hotel. A somewhat unsavory hotel. With your first officer. The woman married to your pilot. Did you sleep with her?" _

"_Yes. What the_ 他妈的_ business is it of yours, Harken? Screwing ain't illegal that I know of… 'less it's in a public park."_

A laden glance flicked between them.

"_No, it's not." Harken's voice. "But it does show me a crack in the loyalty of your crew. About your pilot. And your first officer. And do you love her?" _

"_No." Mal's voice. _

"_He's lying."_

Out of the long strained silence that followed Zoe hitting the stop button, Mal suddenly smiled brightly at her and mockingly asked, "So, how's that whole talkin' it out thing working for you so far?"

"Asshole," she answered fondly.

"Score one for avoidance," Mal said.

She regarded him long and thoughtfully. "And do you?"

Mal stared at her coolly. "Lie detectors ain't foolproof," he answered steadily.

Zoe chuckled, but with a hint of bitterness. "And there's one for denial."

Reaching over to hit the play button again, Mal hesitated, his hand hovering over the button. "And that little moment got me dragged off to be chained in the dark, shot full of 狗屎 to keep me awake, freaked out and hallucinating some scary-ass crap, while Harken promptly trotted off to chat with your husband about it."

"And Wash hit him," Zoe added, a touch of pride in her voice.

Mal smiled for real at her. "You know, you gotta make things right with him. He really is a keeper."

She smiled back. "Thanks. Thanks for saying. After that 狗屎 he was spouting on the bridge, I wasn't so sure you'd be thinking too kindly of him."

Mal gave her a thoughtful look. "I was upset about that part about Shadow. Still am, truth be told. But… he said something else, too." Mal hesitated, then shrugged. "You really thinking about having a baby with him?"

"Yes," she said softly, her eyes playing over him in a measuring way. "How would that sit with you?"

Shaking his head slowly, Mal studied her closely. He knew her so well, had known her so long, yet, still… "It would be strange, no denying. Would you… um… you figure you'd be leaving the ship, in that case, I suppose." He couldn't quite manage to ask it as a straight forward question. "I guess you really couldn't, you know, do _that_ and still stay here, with me."

"Mal," Zoe said, her hand reaching to lightly touch his arm, "I'll stay. Forever," she said. "That's the whole point. I'll never leave." Zoe looked up at him with her gentle, reassuring smile. "Not even if you and Wash… What? What's wrong?"

He stared at her, trying to piece together fragments of memory. "There was something…" Mal frowned, concentrating. "Something Harken said. I was kinda going in and out, not sure what was real or not." He glanced at the player. "How does it end? Harken say anything about you right as they're taking me out the last time?"

"No," Zoe said, studying him closely. "He just said they could shut down, that they were done. Why? What are you remembering?"

He scowled and rubbed his temple, the effort to remember renewing the throbbing. "I'm… I'm not sure I should say. I just don't know if it's real or something I was hallucinating."

"Tell me," Zoe ordered.

"Harken said something about 'she's pregnant' and 'doesn't know it herself' and 'interesting timing'." Mal looked at Zoe imploringly. "Zoe… is there any chance…?"

Zoe stared back at him with a stunned expression, like she'd just taken one between the eyes. "Ummm…" She shook her head but looked uncertain. "I… I suppose there's a _chance_." Zoe looked over at Mal. "We have to find out. Now."

* * *

Simon woke to the knocking at his door, shaking off the grogginess with the speed of an E.R. doctor used to being awakened at all hours. He slid the door open, surprised to see the captain and Zoe standing before him. What could be wrong? He hadn't heard any gunfire. 

Shaking himself, he rubbed his eyes. Mal and Zoe appeared disheveled, both uncharacteristically barefoot, shirts untucked, and both more than a touch flushed and flustered-looking. And wasn't that a new thing to see on this cool pair.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" Simon asked, automatically adding, "Is it River?"

"No, doctor," Mal answered. "We, uh… need you to do a pregnancy test." He blurted it out.

Simon looked from Mal to Zoe to Mal to Zoe to Mal…

"For Zoe," Mal added, giving Simon a nudging look.

…to Zoe. She nodded. …to Mal.

"Now," Mal said.

…to Zoe to Mal…

_And will we be needing a paternity test with that?_

"Right," Simon managed to make the word happen out loud. "Uh… meet… meet me in, uh, the infirmary. I'll be right there." They slid the door back closed as they turned away.

"Huh," Simon said profoundly to the closed door. Of all the possible problems to appear at his door in the middle of the night, and of all the possible combinations of people on the ship to appear at his door with this exact problem, this was right at the top of the not-on-the-list list.

Kaylee would have been proud of the cursing Simon managed under his breath as he splashed some water on his face and pulled on a shirt.

When he arrived in the infirmary, Mal was finishing closing the blinds on the windows. Simon took the cue and closed the door behind him, latching it closed. Zoe sat perched on the edge of the exam table somehow achieving a look that was both utterly Zoe-warrior-cool and womanly uncertain all at the same time.

The captain took a station by the exam table, standing rigidly with his arms folded across his chest. He had his best inscrutable expression firmly locked down on his face.

As he prepped his equipment, Simon said to Zoe, "I'll need you to remove your lower clothing." She promptly started to strip. Simon glanced at Mal. "You might want to wait outside, captain," he said urgingly. Mal didn't move and Zoe didn't stop undressing.

He didn't think he was dreaming, but Simon did consider the possibility he'd woken in some strange alternate 'verse, as he began to examine Zoe. He must have hidden his reaction well at what he found for two questioning sets of eyes stared hard at him when he finally looked up.

"No," he said simply, to Zoe.


	26. Chapter 26: Interactions

**Blue Sun Job:** _Interactions _  
靑日 Job: _Interactions_

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?

**

* * *

Chapter 26 **

"No," Simon said again to Zoe. "But..."

Mal stirred, cutting him off. "Well, I heard him wrong, then. Or imagined it," he said to Zoe.

"Or Harken was lying," Zoe said. "A trump card to play on all of us? To break us? Or Wash?"

"But he didn't... it was right at the end. Don't see how he had a percentage in saying such a thing just then," Mal said. Simon saw him rub his head, obviously struggling with elusive memories. "Didn't actually say your name, just said 'she'."

Their eyes met for a moment then in unison turned to Simon. "Kaylee?" Mal and Zoe shot the question like a bullet at Simon.

"Uh... no... Not Kaylee." Simon stumbled. "Let me finish. Please."

They both stared at him, waiting.

Simon realized he'd never had to tell a woman such a thing. It was completely beyond his realm of medical expertise. It was so much easier to extract bullets and stitch up wounds than to...

"I'm sorry, Zoe. There _was_... you _were_... It's... umm..." Simon fumbled for the kindest way to say this.

Zoe scrutinized him with one of her emotionless soldier-expressions, but it was the captain who said, clearly issuing an order, "Just say your piece plainly, doctor."

"All indications are that there was--however briefly, no more than a week--an... embryo." Gads, don't get either of them thinking of it as a 'baby', Simon thought with sudden alarm. This entire situation was already laden with too much volatility without introducing that concept.

Zoe blinked but her expression didn't vary even a millimeter--stone cold and controlled. "You're saying I was pregnant but now I'm not? That it?"

Mal wore what Simon thought of as his 'backing down Jayne' expression. Simon found it every bit as unnerving as Jayne did.

Simon suppressed moan. "Yes and no. I'm sorry," he repeated. "This is something that normally you would never have even known had taken place, and it's far more common than is generally realized. It takes the most sophisticated of internal scans to detect an embryo in the early days of its formation..."

"Scans like the Alliance might do on a female prisoner," Zoe said, glancing at Mal. "They ran me over good. Didn't say a word, though."

"他妈的. Gorram sumbitches," the captain said.

"Why would a military cruiser have...?" Simon began.

Mal cut him off. "Those ships are huge, doctor," he said in a flat tone. "They even have nurseries in them. They'd have any such-like high-tech gadgets as they'd care to use." He looked off away from them a moment and Simon was surprised to see it was the captain who seemed to be trying to regather control while Zoe still appeared chillingly serene. What was going on with these two?

"What happened?" Mal asked. "Why... And how do you know? And did _they_ do something to... to make it not go right?"

There was no mistaking the definition of 'they' the way the captain used it. "No. No," Simon said hastily. "Nothing that was done to Zoe, not the treatment, however harsh it may have been, nor the sedative she was injected with, could have caused the embryo to fail. I examined her thoroughly on your arrival back on _Serenity_ so I ask you to believe me on this." The idea that they might just turn the ship around and launch an attack on an Alliance cruiser flitting suddenly through his mind. The captain had a look just that deadly in his eyes. "You see, in the earliest of stages, there's simply a collection of undifferentiated cells. It's not a truly viable embryo until it reaches the stage called 'blastocyst' which is on about the fourth day after conception, when the embryo reaches the uterus. Barring a reproductive clinic's resources, this is, with our current best technology employed, the earliest such an embryo could be detected."

"Be about the day we were arrested, if what the doc says is right," Zoe said softly to Mal. "It would have been conceived the day we went down to Beta."

Mal let out a low groan. "That's what the bastard meant by 'interesting timing'. 他妈的. Trump card and he just didn't play it. Maybe you were right about him."

Hesitantly, Simon went on, "About the sixth day, implantation takes place and certain hormones are generated… and..."

Simon swallowed hard as he took in the two cold, dark expressions boring into him. "It simply failed to successfully pass that stage. It's not something I'd have found even on a routine exam... it's just that you asked me to specifically look." He turned to his equipment to escape the stares. "I.. I did a blood test on you while you were sedated," he said to Zoe, "and it did show a slightly elevated level of hCG, though not distinctive enough to cause note, and now the level is decreased even more. With the internal scan I did…" He looked back and forth at them, feeling more and more uneasy about his explanation of the delicate subject, and their reactions, or lack thereof. "It truly wasn't anything that was done to you, not even the stress of the situation. It was simply a natural event gone awry. Nothing you did or didn't do caused it. It was just..."

"Not meant to be," Zoe whispered so softly Simon almost didn't hear her.

"God's will…" Mal said, equally low.

"One of those things. Really for the best." Zoe again. Both wore thousand light year distant stares.

"Doesn't mean a damned thing." Mal, barely audible.

Simon looked back and forth between them wondering why they sounded like they were reciting lines from an old script.

"I, uh, can go over the methodology I used to determine..." Simon began.

"Not just now, doctor," Mal said low, not looking up.

Then he did glance up, giving Simon a 'back off' with a flick of his eyes. Simon snatched up a few item of his equipment to give himself an excuse to move away. Crossing to the farthest corner of the infirmary, he fidgeted with the equipment, watching the captain and Zoe out of the corner of his eye. He tried not to listen even as he strained to hear what they were saying to each other.

They whispered low and intensely. Simon almost turned and openly gawked when Mal suddenly clasped Zoe's hand. He had never seen them do that, but this whole night was buffeting him with 'nevers'. He heard Wash's name invoked and it sounded as though it was the captain who was saying it and saying it in an insistent tone. What…? Simon didn't like to think it, but he couldn't help but wonder whose this brief flicker of life--um… this barely differentiated cluster of cells--had been? The captain and Zoe doing… _that_. It was a disturbingly dissonant thought. Hadn't they said they had _never_…

Then the intonations escalated into what was clearly an argument, though still held in voices so low that Simon could only make out scattered words. "…not until…" "…own damned business…" "…you swear…" The captain and Zoe arguing? Did that happen? In the time he'd been on _Serenity_ Simon could not recall a single outright argument between the two--at least not in public. As this night made so vividly clear, what took place in private might be an entirely different matter.

Finally, Simon saw the captain raise his hands in the universal gesture of surrender and step back away from Zoe. She jerked on her clothes and dashed toward the door.

"Zoe… please," Simon called, as she unlatched the door and slid it open. "We need to discuss…"

The door slid back closed with a bang. "Later, perhaps," Simon finished, looking over toward the captain.

Now what? Mal stood stock still by the exam table for several seconds, his expression utterly unreadable to Simon. Then, inexplicably, he turned to the cabinets on the far side of the infirmary and began rummaging through them.

"Can I help you find something, captain?" Simon tried to sound as distantly professional as possible while he idly wondered if he really ought to be working out a way to flood the entire ship with some sort of tranquilizing gas.

Mal stopped, facing away, with his hand on one of the cabinet doors. "I'm looking for something, doctor, that will put me out--asleep--for about eight hours," he said coldly, adding, "With no dreams."

"I see," Simon said slowly and quietly. He understood. That's what Mal and Zoe had been arguing about. She wouldn't leave until he promised. Was that what this unusual interlude between them had been about? Not the improprieties that had been foremost on Simon's mind, but a night of comfort between two old… what? Colleagues? Comrades? Simon found it oddly soothing to have another explanation for the night's proceedings to cling onto. The idea that the captain and his first officer had been actively engaged in betraying the ship's pilot just didn't fit properly in the _Serenity_ Simon thought he knew.

Pulling open a drawer nearby, Simon looked over his diminished stocks, selecting a small bottle. "Here," he said, tossing it to the captain. "Half a one will just… take the edge off." _And you direly need it_. "Two will put you asleep. Dreams are necessary to proper rest, but they should be," he hunted for the best word, "unmemorable."

Mal nodded tersely. Simon watched the captain closely as he paused, squeezing the bottle tightly, but apparently working on something else. He closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, then haltingly asked, "Doctor… how could…?"

"Are you asking how Zoe could have conceived… by accident? Which I assume it was," Simon said. The captain didn't meet his eyes, but nodded. "Captain… Mal… if it weren't for 'accidents' ninety percent of the human race wouldn't exist. It happens. Especially if she's preparing to actually… intentionally…" The captain glanced up at him. Simon received a look that was purely enigmatic, but telling enough just from that.

"Uh… thank you, doctor," the captain muttered, starting for the door.

Simon moved to intercept him. "Captain. Wait." Mal stared at him. "Zoe hasn't consulted me about any of these… matters. I need to… well, for one thing I need a medical history. A complete one." He paused, then took the leap, emphasizing his words, "A truthful one."

"Why?" Mal demanded.

Not letting the 'backing Jayne down' expression throw him, Simon met it steadily. The arrogant confidence of the captain against the arrogant confidence of a doctor? The match could have gone on a long time, but Simon broke it, saying, "I need to know if she has a history that suggests a pattern of such… incidents… If there is, I need to know so I can work with her to avoid a repeat of such situations. Can you tell me…"

"Why you askin' me?" Mal cut him off.

"Because Zoe has obviously not been forthcoming with me," Simon said. "And you're not only her… well, you clearly know more about her than anyone else--" _including her husband_ "--and, after whatever this was I witnessed tonight, I suspect you can answer, and, to be blunt, you're the captain of the ship and I think it's your responsibility just as it's mine as ship's medic" Simon regarded the captain coolly. "There are things a doctor can tell from doing an exam such as I just did. I know there's been a previous..."

Mal gave a small, bitter laugh and looked away. "Always something coming back to bite you in the ass," he muttered, to himself, not to Simon. He looked back up. "Yeah, I know. Heard something similar before, from one of our docs early on in the war. Don't see how it makes no nevermind, though." Before Simon could untangle the grammar in that sentence, the captain added, "It's late and this ain't the time to be dealing with this. I'll see that she gets with you on this, but for now can we just say you're right in the notion that she ain't no heifer and leave it at that?"

He reached for the door handle, but Simon caught hold of it first. "No," he said emphatically.

"Why?" The captain was barely containing his anger.

Simon scowled. "Because I have no idea what you just said."

"他妈的! Cattle on the ship three weeks..."

"Those were steers," Simon snapped. "I know what steers are."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," the captain muttered. Simon frowned. Mal looked back up at him. "A heifer ain't had a calf yet," Mal said clearly, in his talking-to-an-idiot-child voice.

"I see," Simon said slowly. "And you're saying, in 'heifer' terms, Zoe..."

"Ain't."

* * *

_Serenity's_ controls could not be touched in any manner that Wash couldn't tell. Though there'd been a hand at the panel, but they were still locked and the ship continued on course undisturbed. One down. 

He glanced at the closed doorway to the captain's bunk. No. Last resort. Wash just wanted to find his wife, not find things he didn't want to find, and wasn't really ready to believe he would find. Turning down the stairs to the cargo bay, he wondered where on earth... on the ship, his wife could have gone.

A nearly empty bottle of Kaylee's moonshine sat on the catwalk. A trail...

Down into the cargo bay, Wash walked quietly, watching and listening. The infirmary was closed down. Oh... the doc sometimes did that when he was with River in one of her states. Maybe she'd been at the ship's controls, having an episode. Yes, the door to Simon's room was ajar.

An unusual beam of light caught Wash's attention before he turned back toward the cargo bay. Down the other passenger corridor the door to one of the unused rooms stood open, light streaming out. Curiouser and curiouser...

Edging down the passageway, Wash peeked in. 他妈的. The big double-bed was rumpled. No... no... couldn't be. Zoe wouldn't. No. No. No. Well, to be fair, the bed wasn't _that_ rumpled. No way in the 'verse his Zoe could manage a romp and keep the bed this tidy. My god, what was he thinking? Not his Zoe. Never. Nevernevernever. Stepping in, Wash picked up the player. Listening to something in here?

He hit 'play'. Stopped. Backed it up and hit 'play' again. Then Wash sat down hard on the bed, staring stunned at the player. He recognized the voices on it.

"_Did you sleep with her?" "Yes." "And do you love her?" "No." "He's lying."_

Wash wondered if it was possible to suffocate while sitting perfectly still in a large, well-ventilated room. His hand shook as he ran the recording back and played the passage again. My god.

A small sound at the doorway caused Wash to look up. Mal stood in the opening staring at Wash with a scary-dark expression. Not angry--well, yes, angry but not in his about-to-pull-a-gun-and-blow-someone-to-kingdom-come sort of way--but also not apologetic.

"Coming back to get this?" Wash asked, amazed his voice was so steady.

Mal nodded. Then he crossed the room, taking the player from Wash's hand while Wash just stared up in numb astonishment. Where were the denials? The reassurances? The 'nothing was going on it was all innocent we were thinking of you the whole time' blathering?

Instead Mal ran the recording forward, stopping to play fragments as he hunted for something. When he found the place he was seeking, he tossed the player back at Wash, saying, "You want to listen? Start there. Then go see your wife. She needs you." Then he turned away, shutting the door behind him just a touch harder than necessary.

Wash stared at the door, just breathing until his trembling quieted enough that he could hit the 'play' button again. Then he began to tremble for a different reason.

"_There's an incident that's not in those papers you got there in front of you, from way back in the first years of the war. You wonder why my first officer--Zoe--still flies around with me? And it ain't love or screwing or any of the other_ 狗屎_ you got in your demented mind. Do you know what your people did to her?"_

"_Tell me," Harken said in a whisper. _

"_Fine," Mal said. "I'll tell you."_

_(This story told in chapter 9)_

* * *

"Mal." 

Inara had seen Mal have many reactions to her, from the most poorly concealed desire to angry contempt, but she had never seen him act less happy to see her than he did just now. She heard him groan "now what?" all the way across the cargo bay when he heard her call his name.

After a long pause and a deep breath, Mal looked up at her. "What do you want, Inara?" He managed to mix tired, defeated, pissed off, and scornful in one brief sentence.

"Come up to my shuttle," she said shortly, turning back in before he could refuse.

Inara stood waiting while Mal climbed the stairs and entered her shuttle. Mal closed the shuttle door behind him but stopped just inside the entrance.

She gestured. "Please sit." Turning quickly away before he could protest, she fussed with her tea set, pouring into the tiny cups.

He displayed absolutely no graciousness or patience as he collapsed down on her long sofa, just sheer annoyance. He fiddled with a small bottle, studying it, turning it over and around, shaking it. Anything but to have to look at her?

Inara didn't suppress a hint of a tender smile. Jayne's comment about what Mal went through on the Alliance cruiser hadn't really surprised her--Jayne's awareness had, but that was another matter. While she was light on the details, Harken's aide had given her a summary of what Mal had been put through and, as Jayne had pointed out, just the extreme to which he'd been pushed said much.

Setting one of the cups in front of him, which he pointedly ignored, Inara said, "I hoped we might discuss some things that…"

"Inara," he said tiredly, setting the small bottle down sharply next to the teacup, "I ain't wanting no more... no more anything tonight. 懂吗? No fights. No damned drama. And sure as hell no more gorram confessions."

"That's not why I called you in here, Mal," she said softly, letting her voice flow in a melodically soothing way. "When I saw you were up I decided it might be good to just talk. I sense you need it."

Apparently her calculatedly soothing tone did not pass unnoticed for Mal chuckled sarcastically.

"Gone from 'wiles' to 'techniques'? That it, 'Nara? You been talkin' to Zoe? Or Jayne?" he asked giving her an up-down strip-her-bare-with-his-eyes leer. Just as she was attempting to play him--yes, with her Companion techniques, just not the ones that fascinated Jayne--he promptly lobbed one of his jackass, nasty challenges back at her, trying to throw her.

And, damn him, if he couldn't tweak her into annoyance just that quick. Inara knew from his smirk he'd seen the flash in her eyes.

"Neither," she said, glancing away to regain her control, "and both." She fixed her gaze upon him again, resting a melty, caring--but not sultry--look on him. "And I've been listening to, and watching, you. I can see you're troubled, and I know you've been through a terribly hard time these past few days. Let me help," she ended on a soft, imploring note, reaching ever so gently to touch his hand.

Mal stared at her for a long moment. Inara absolutely couldn't read his reaction. Strangely, he said, sounding formally distant, "Could I have a glass of water, please?"

"Of course," Inara answered, puzzled. Standing, she moved to fill a small tumbler. She handed it to him, watching as he opened the bottle and shook out a tablet. He snapped it in half and swallowed it, chasing it down with a gulp of the water.

I'll be damned, Inara thought. Of one thing she was certain, Malcolm Reynolds didn't do anything randomly, especially where she was concerned. Sitting back down, Inara picked up the still open pill bottle, glancing at the label, she shook it and looked inside. Mal sat placidly, watching her with no expression. Inara recognized what these little tablets were and knew he'd just told her, more clearly than if he'd used words, that he simply could not deal with her right now.

Inara quelled her smile. "How long since you've had a good night's sleep?" she asked.

"Does unconscious count? And why are you still up?" He glanced pointedly over toward her still-made bed.

Trying to divert her again, Inara thought. "I got off ship's time this last week," she said, still holding the pill bottle.

"Busy with the wh…"

"Don't," she cut him off. Inara played her gaze over him, studying, probing. Mal sat quietly, giving her nothing back. No opening.

Taking his hand in hers, she turned it over. Mal didn't resist her touch, just watched her with mild curiosity but no interest. Inara carefully shook two of the tablets out into his palm, guiding his hand up toward his mouth. With a 'what the hell' sort of shrug, he gulped them down. She handed him the tumbler of water.

"Come with me," Inara said, whispery soft. She held out both hands toward him.

It took all of Inara's control not to be amused by Mal's expression. "You have been talkin' to Jayne," he said. He frowned. "Or Zoe?"

Inara could no longer repress a chuckle. "I know what that is you just took, Mal," she said, laughing lightly. "Believe me, nothing is going to be happening here but sleeping."

"Great," Mal murmured as she led him over to her bed. He sat down, looking up at her as she stood over him still holding his hands. "Finally get into your bed and you drug me outta the game." He gave her a quick, mocking smirk. "But I ain't sleeping yet," he said suggestively.

Chuckling again, Inara could see the tranquilizer was already starting to affect him. "You also just took a twenty-five percent overdose," she said. When he frowned, she hastened to add, "Don't worry. It won't hurt you."

"Yeah… been hearing a lot of that lately," he muttered. "Ain't been true yet."

"Lie back," she ordered softly, pushing him down. He sank back, closing his eyes with a contented sigh. "Move over," she said. He opened his eyes, looking at her curiously, but slid over to the middle, making room for her.

Inara curled up on the bed beside him, taking his hand in hers, she massaged it gently. His eyes drifted closed again. "This part of them Companion 'techniques'?"

"Yes, it is," she said, lightly working her way from his fingers to his palm.

Mal's eyes snapped open, studying her sharply. "Uh…"

Smiling, Inara said, "Companions aren't just… _whores_." He scowled at her but listened closely. "We also are… companions," she said, massaging her way down his hand to his wrist. "We offer support, comfort… whatever is needed to make the client feel good, happy, complete. Not just sex." She encircled his wrist with her fingers.

"Mmmm…" He closed his eyes again. After a moment he murmured, "Don't hold my wrist like that."

Mal wasn't pulling away. "There's a pressure point, right here…" she pressed it, "that…"

Mal shook his head. "It's not that," he said, barely mumbling.

Inara glanced at his wrist. "Do the bruises hurt?" He shook his head slightly. "Oh," Inara said, understanding. She moved her attention back to his hand, holding it very lightly, very cautiously. "It's the feeling of restriction that's bothering you, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Just might make me react a little… strange," he whispered.

"So, not much with the bondage games, I guess," she said, pleased that got a genuine chuckle.

"Stop fighting it, Mal," Inara murmured watching him closely. "Just relax and let it come."

One eye quirked open, twinkling at her. "You'll have to be a lot more naked for that," he said.

"Oh, you!" Inara chuckled. She moved to stroking his arm in slow, soothing pets. "Just go to sleep." She lowered her voice to a hypnotic murmur. "Let the dreams come, just hand them off to me. I'll stay right here and take care of you."

Mal sighed softly, almost gone. Inara sat still, automatically continuing her motions. She hoped to hell he hadn't really just heard her say she'd stay.


	27. Chapter 27: Caught

**Blue Sun Job:** _Caught _  
靑日 Job: _Caught_

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap  
懂吗? dong ma? do you understand?

**

* * *

Chapter 27 **

"Zoe?" Wash called her name softly as he climbed down the ladder into their bunk.

"Right here," she answered. She was sitting on the bed, still dressed. "Where you been, husband?" The pleasant softness of her voice made a chilling contrast to the icy tone she managed to weave into it.

Wash studied her closely, wondering how all of a sudden a woman whose body he had explored in exacting detail could so suddenly appear as a stranger to him. He could still see his Zoe, his splendid, deadly, passionate Zoe, but he now saw more, different; saw someone he wasn't sure he knew. On top of the startling--shocking, stunning, astounding--revelation that Zoe and Mal had once been… uh, more intensely acquainted than Wash had dreamed, he'd just gotten an earful of history, from Mal's voice, saying things about Zoe Wash had never dreamed possible. His tough, unshakable wife someone's victim? Impossible.

He'd only listened to that part of the recording--five times over, to be sure. The rest he hadn't dared hear out just yet, terrified of what other secrets might come out to shatter him and his fantasy image of this woman who held his heart in her grip so completely it positively ached. Wash desperately wanted to think the best, to put his arms around Zoe and soak up all her hurts, past, present, and future, but he had his own streak of stubborn and his own hurts, too. And more than a few of those were wrapped in the other passage on that recording--"Did you sleep with her?" "Yes." Sonuvabitch. Zoe and Mal, Mal and Zoe… even the gorram Feds saw them as the natural pairing, the partners in crime. The partners in life? How gorram far did that partnership go? Where, if anywhere, did the only-the-husband fit in? Did Zoe regret tying herself to him? Did he…?

"Might ask the same, muffincakes," Wash said sweetly, crossing over to his side of the bed. "Been looking for you. Woke up and you were gone. Where were you?" He didn't mean to sound smarmily accusing. It slipped out.

He couldn't tell what was going on behind her eyes as she said, "I had to get out of here for a bit."

"Because of me?"

"No," she snapped. "Because it was just too enclosing." She softened her tone with obvious effort, trying to be conciliatory to him, Wash realized. Don't do that, lambykin. Don't try to smooth everything over. I'm a big boy. Just tell me. Lower, she said, "This being locked up these past few days brought back some bad memories. I needed some open space around me."

"Yeah," Wash said slowly. "Old memories like that can be hard to cope with. Say, how's Mal coping with them?"

Zoe's eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "Not too well. We had some talk about it."

"Right," Wash said, not stopping a hint of sarcasm from creeping into his voice. This wasn't where he wanted this chat to be going at this moment but somehow he couldn't stop himself. "Why couldn't you talk to me about it?"

"You wouldn't understand," she said.

"Wouldn't I?" Wash sighed heavily, rolling over to her on the bed. She sat rigidly unmoving, not looking at him, freezing him out. "Here's the damn problem, Zoe. Right here. You figure I'm fine for the rolling around in the sheets and the slap and tickle part of being married, but not for the hard things."

Her lips twitched and Wash suddenly got his unintentional joke. "Knock it off," he said. "I'm serious. You say you've got a bout of the uncomfortables on account of getting locked up again by the Alliance. Tell _me_ about it. Share that with _me_, Zoe. I will understand." He raised his hand to stop her protest. "Zoe, I spent longer as an involuntary guest of the Alliance than you did. I would get how you feel."

She scoffed and shook her head. "You had practically a whole continent to roam around on. They'd shoot at us if we looked out the wrong window."

Reaching out, Wash took her hand and pulled it over into his lap. He let out a long breath. "Zoe, my wife, my beloved… It all comes down to having your freedom taken away from you. After that it's just a matter of the details. Yes, I know you and Mal have been through some horrible things and horrible times, but share those things with me--let me understand, make me understand--stop running off to Mal when things are rough."

"I don't want to," she said sharply. Wash jerked back in surprise.

"Why…?"

Zoe turned to him, her expression coldly controlled. "You're shiny, happy, fun, and laughter. You don't notice things like that I cut apples up 'cause I'm afraid I might get my head blown off. You don't see the… the… the _murder_ in me sometimes. You see… a _woman_. An honest to goodness female type woman. Your wife. I don't want to taint what you see with the… the…"

"What does Mal see?" Wash whispered, meeting her eyes, not backing down.

Zoe broke the connection, looking away. "You'd have to ask him."

"Like he'd tell me," Wash said with a bitter laugh, fingering the disk in his pocket. Mal had told him, some at least. What else was there to know? "Does anyone, or anything, ever come between this thing you two have between you? Even a husband?" He paused, then took the plunge. "Why'd you marry me, Zoe?"

Any other woman would have at least been blinking back tears. His Zoe didn't even twitch. "Because you made me laugh. You made me love. You made me… forget."

Very slowly, Wash said, "I don't want you to forget. Not anything. All that was has made you what you are. And I want to love--I _do_ love--the whole package." Wash sighed. "You are the most confounding woman I have ever met," Wash told her, trying to get his wife to meet his eyes. She wouldn't. "Also the most beautiful, dangerous, and passionate. Listen… There's more to being married than the humping. Being married to someone isn't about the fun and games and the laughing and the… the screwing. It's about being true to another person, loyal to them no matter what, even if you're so furious at them you could just choke. I didn't marry half of you. I married all of you."

Strangely, she laughed. "I'm not so sure about that."

* * *

_Darkness. Smothering, suffocating darkness. Silence of the grave. No feeling. Utterly alone. Buried alive..._

Mal woke with a start. Dark. Didn't know where he was. Then a soft voice in the dark steadied him.

"Mal?"

Zoe? Mal floated up out of a drowsy haze into a perplexing darkness. This wasn't a bleak oppressive dark filled with the smells of fear and steel and imprisonment. Rich scents filled this dark--spices and perfumes. Odd...

He turned his head. The darkness wasn't complete. He could see her shape, the long curls draped over her face. Maybe he was still dreaming. It seemed like a dream, this place. Unreal.

A hand closed on his arm.

"Oh, geez!" He jerked away.

"Sorry." Not Zoe. Inara's voice. Soft and lilting. Soothing.

Mal collapsed back. Inara lit more candles, chasing the dark away with their golden glow. He knew it leaned toward the crazy side of normal to do even as he did it, but he cautiously checked to be sure he wasn't physically restrained in any way. Good. Okay. Just a dream. Yup, bondage games weren't never something he wanted to play. Had played way too many and never for fun.

"Better?" she asked quietly, returning to sit on the edge of the bed. _Her_ bed. Well... this was new.

"Uh huh," Mal managed, closing his eyes to try to reorient himself in the 'verse. Right. Inara. The happy pills. Inara and the petting. Happy pills still trying to suck him back down into the fog. They hadn't chased the dreams away entirely, just blurred and cushioned them. Well enough, he guessed.

"Go back to sleep," Inara murmured, starting with the stroking of his arm again. Techniques. That's all it was. Using her Companion techniques on him. Inara just plying her trade to make sure the ship's captain didn't go completely off the edge. Not real. Didn't mean a damn thing.

Mal forced his eyes open. She was still dressed in gown and robe; didn't appear to have been sleeping. "I should leave," Mal muttered but somehow couldn't translate the thought into motion.

"Sssshhh… Just stay here and relax." Inara's voice was seductively insistent.

"Not right," he said, not sounding as forceful as he'd have liked. "Hadn't ought to keep you from your rest."

"It's fine," she said, shifting back to that hand-rubbing massage. It was nice. "This isn't the first time I've sat with you all night like this."

Well, that cut through the fog. Squinting, Mal stared at her. "Huh? Think I'd remember a thing like that."

Softly, Inara said, "Actually, I'm not sure you would. It was after you got shot."

Mal groaned. "Which damn time?"

"You do seem to make a bad habit of it," Inara said with a chuckle. He liked the sound. Musical. She rested her hand lightly over his abdomen. Her touch didn't touch him. Maybe he'd gotten her out of his system. Or maybe it was the pills. "Here. The first few days after it happened someone was with you all the time." She shrugged and pulled her hand back. It all had a calculating air to it, her actions. What did she expect, that he'd just roll over and take her? Is that what she wanted?

"I usually stayed with you in the night," Inara continued in a husky whisper. "You didn't wake up too often. And when you did you were usually too out of it to know or care what was going on around you." In a hypnotic murmur she recounted her tale. He suspected she didn't pay much mind to which words she told him; was just trying to lull him back to sleep. Mal listened anyhow, weighing what she said and how she said it.

Frowning as he concentrated, Mal shook his head. Damned if it didn't sound a bit like the tale Zoe'd told him just a few days ago about their first robbery--minus the getting chased by Feds. Zoe had tended him during the long nights then. Okay, Inara talked fancier--taught her at whore school how to knock a man's feet out from under him just with her voice--but he could hear pieces of worry and concern over him slipping in. Zoe'd acted more annoyed with him than anything else for getting in such a fix. But then Zoe didn't need to sound like she was fretting over him for Mal to know she was fretting. She was a pro at it. Speaking of pros… Inara. Inara and Zoe… Hmmm… new thought… Alike? It was a funny thought in a lot of ways. Hilarious, actually. The primped, preening courtesan and the no-nonsense soldier alike? Zoe had been softer once upon a time, laughing and joyful. And Inara had grown tougher, showing more gumption and spunk in her belly than he'd thought one such as her could ever have. Like Inara is, Zoe was?

"You're still leaving, aren't you?" Mal asked very quietly.

After a pause, Inara whispered. "I have to. But not just yet."

Hmmm… Inara wouldn't stay and Zoe would never leave.

Zoe… the night came back to him, what had happened. Mal squeezed his eyes closed and rolled over away from Inara. In the golden red delusion that was Inara's shuttle, memories of a long ago time and world, filled his mind. A glow of red and gold colored the landscape, and a sparkling girl with long black curls framing her face, smiled at him. He could hear her laughter echo across time, merging with his own. On the sound Mal floated away into the numbing haze again.

* * *

Zoe hung her head down, not watching as Wash's feet disappeared upwards. Though it wasn't possible to slam the door of their bunk, somehow he managed to make it bang into place with more than its usual force. Damn. Damn. Damn! What was wrong with them that each and every time they started to have a civilized conversation they ended up shouting at each other? Was it her? Was she the word he'd called her back on Harken's cruiser? Or was it Wash? Was he so 他妈的 insecure in her love that he couldn't accept that she had another man in her life and that simply wasn't going to change... 

Uh... okay. Argh! Why the 他妈的 would a husband be upset that his wife was tied so closely to another man? 狗屎.

She hadn't even gotten to tell him about their almost-baby. Don't lie to yourself, Zoe. You could have found a way, forced it out. But then you'd think about _her_, the other lost one and then you might have cried and that wouldn't do... and...

Zoe sprang up from the bed, needing movement, action, to pull herself out of the black hole of feelings dragging her down. She needed to shoot someone or hit someone. What she wanted--_needed_--was to seek out Mal, whether a word passed between them or not, he'd understand. How could she make Wash--her husband, the man she'd chosen to wed--understand that she needed Mal and would never leave. _Don't ask me to choose. Not that kind of choice._

Their cabin was still in disarray from the Alliance search of the ship. Lacking any other outlet, Zoe began picking things up and putting them back into their place. She arranged three of the dinosaurs in a diorama with two on either side trying to pull the middle one apart. No, that wasn't fair. Wash might ask her to choose a separate life with him away from Mal and _Serenity_ but Mal would never ask. He hadn't even asked if she'd come with him on _Serenity_ in the first place. He just showed her the ship and talked about how they'd live on it, a little anxious and hopeful that she'd buy into his dream. Of course she did. It was her dream too. Her place would be as it had been for so long, at his side. Zoe smiled at the recollection. Maybe he hadn't dared ask in case she said 'no'. Or maybe he didn't think to ask; just knew the answer without saying the words. He was right.

Funny to hear Wash echo words Mal had spoken to her a lifetime before on the nature of marriage. _It's about being true to another person, loyal to them no matter what…_ Wasn't life, the life she and Mal had shared before she married Wash, about that too? About being loyal no matter what? It was the rule Mal lived by, no matter what else he may do. She and Mal had never discussed being together, staying together. The loyalty was absolute and unbreakable and no one--not even a husband--could end it.

Zoe gave the two outer dinosaurs a fond stroke. Wash was fun and bright and shiny. Mal was dark and moody and troubled. She loved Wash's laugh. It tickled her soul and brought a light into it. Yet… oh, here was the strange thought, she remembered Mal's laugh too. Before. Though he had often tried her patience, Mal had been fun and cheerful and ever-optimistic. Had been. Before. Glancing up at the ladder, Zoe frowned at the new thought--why exactly had she picked Wash? Who had he reminded her of?

* * *

Wash rubbed his fingers through his hair as he stumbled down the steps into the dining area. A noise from the kitchen almost made him trip on the last step. 

"Hey, preacher," Wash called softly. "You're up late."

"Or early," Book answered with a chuckle. "It's nearly morning. Thought I'd get a start on breakfast, and maybe inventory our supplies, see what we have left to work with."

"Yeah," Wash said. "Those Federal boys have sticky fingers. More interested in thieving than searching for evidence."

Book laughed richly as he sorted through the food stores. "Judge not lest ye be judged."

Wash stared at him a blank moment. "Oh. I get you. 'Cause we're crooks, we shouldn't be too mad at the Feds for swiping things from us. Fair's fair."

"That would be one interpretation," Book allowed.

"There any others?" Wash asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down facing the preacher.

"Perhaps that if you don't think well of those that steal from you, it might be that you shouldn't be stealing from others," Book suggested gently.

"Huh. Well, there's crazy notions going around everywhere tonight, isn't there?" Wash said.

"Hmmm…" Book poured two cups of coffee and carried them over to the table, seating himself near Wash. "Yes, I've sensed there are some, one might say, _issues_ among some of the crew." He looked pointedly at Wash. "Among you three, in particular."

Wash laughed, with just a touch of hysteria creeping in. "And which _three_ might that be, preacher?"

Smiling, Book said, "I'm not blind, son. I could see you and your wife and the captain had a case of the vexations going on between you. Why don't you talk to me about it. I might be able to help. At least give you a sounding board."

"Oh, thanks, preacher, but you know I'm not much with the religion," Wash said, his eyes darting away from Book to fix on his cup. How the heck much of what was going on did everyone on the ship know?

Casually, Book stood, crossing to the kitchen. From beneath the counter, he pulled out the near-empty bottle of Kaylee's 'shine. "Found this on a catwalk in the cargo bay," Book commented, returning to the table. He poured a generous dollop in Wash's coffee, and a trace in his own. "Don't think of me as a Shepherd. Think of me as your friendly, neighborhood bartender, who'll listen to your tale, maybe throw in some advice you won't take, but will absolutely keep your confidences. How's than sound?"

Wash didn't look up at the preacher as he gulped down a swallow of the Irish. It burned on the way down, hitting his stomach with a thud. "They're sleeping together," he muttered, surprised he could get the words out.

The preacher's shock was audible. "The captain and your wife?" The silence stretched long and thick. Wash gulped down the rest of the cupful. Book refilled it from the bottle before asking, "What makes you think that?"

"They told me."

It took Book a long time to answer again and then Wash couldn't help but notice how carefully he spoke--didn't believe him. Hell, he had a hard time believing it himself. "Wash… did they directly tell you they were having, uh, intimate relations?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Is it at all possible you might have misunderstood? Or jumped to a wrong conclusion?" Book asked him.

Wash shook his head. He had Zoe shouting at him during one of their battles that she had shared a bed with Mal on that moon but that it 'didn't mean anything', whatever that meant. But then there was the captain's own words telling Commander Harken that, yes, he had slept with her down there. Those words Harken had promptly thrown back at Wash, claiming he had evidence of what was going on between Mal and Zoe. Wash scratched his head. He hadn't actually seen any of the evidence, had he? He knew Mal and Zoe had been equipped to scan that room for sensors and bugs. No one could match Mal for sheer paranoia. Yet he had got caught by Harken on other things, so hard to say how good he'd covered his tracks on this...

"Ummm…"

Book nodded at him thoughtfully, saying, "While the captain certainly is a bit of a reprobate--by both definitions of the word--in many regards, he does still adhere to a rather exacting set of principles in other ways. And primary of those principles has to do with loyalty, betrayal, and trust. I suspect--no, I'm certain--he's wound up on the wrong side of both of those things a time or two before. I find it extremely hard to believe he'd betray you, or violate your marriage vows to Zoe. I don't believe he'd do that to _her_. Or that Zoe would do so to you."

Wash sighed. "And yet…" He pulled out the small disk and spun it on the table like a top. It flashed light spears across the Shepherd's face. "Mal's on there telling that gorram Fed that he slept with Zoe in that hotel while they were on the job. He was hooked up to a 他妈的 lie detector when he said it, so what am I supposed to believe?"

The Shepherd's lips twitched.

"What's so funny?" Wash demanded.

Book chuckled and looked away. "I'm sorry. Just the thought of Captain Reynolds hooked up to a lie detector strikes me as extremely amusing. I would have liked to ask a question or two myself." He coughed discretely and put on a somber expression. "Son, I truly think you may be jumping the gun here, so to speak. The captain was, no doubt, playing a very specific game with Commander Harken in which exact meanings could make lies into truth. Remember he was trying to save lives--yours among them. There are many euphemisms for the sexual act of which 'sleeping' is one of them. Sometimes, however, a cigar really is only a cigar."

"Huh?"

With a smile, Book said judiciously, "They probably just slept."

"Well… maybe… I sure would like to think that," Wash said. He spun the disk on the table again. "He said he loved her. Or, rather, he said he didn't and the lie detector nailed him on it."

Book refilled Wash's cup with the last from the bottle before answering. "Do you doubt that Mal and Zoe love each other?"

Wash shook himself all over as he downed the last of the 'shine. "Now, preacher, you're turning around and getting smutty just when you'd about talked me out of it."

"Not at all. There's nothing smutty about loving another person. And the deepest truest sorts of love have nothing to do with the physical act. Mal and Zoe have been together for a long time…"

"So I keep hearing," Wash inserted dryly.

"…and they've been through tremendous hardships and traumas together. They have lost the sort of history and connections that anchor most people in the 'verse--home, family, friends--leaving only each other. They stay together for a reason and though I would be surprised if they have ever expressed it even to each other, that reason would be a deep and abiding love, each for the other," Book said. "At the risk of upsetting you further, they seem to have a form of marriage between them, so deep are the ties that bind them. But I sincerely doubt they've ever expressed that bond at the level of physical intimacy."

Wash pondered as he spun the disk on the table. What Mal had told about rescuing Zoe after her father's ship was captured certainly fit into what the preacher said. _It ain't love or screwing…_ But, damnit, Zoe herself had said they _had_…

"Zoe did tell me that they used to know each other when they were kids, back on Mal's world, Shadow," Wash said slowly. "And when I say 'know' there's no word games to it--it was your Biblical 'knowing'."

"Oh, my," Book said. He caught the disk out of Wash's fingers and laid it flat on the table.

Wash laughed bitterly. "So I guess it's like I said to Harken when he was badgering me with this, got us a three-way marriage going on here."

"Well, there are worlds where that's considered accepta…" Book began.

"Oh, fergawdsake, preacher! Please tell me Shadow ain't one of those worlds," Wash burst out.

Book laughed. "No, son. The Shadow settlers were very… 'traditional', might be the best word."

"Yeah. What other words were you thinking?" Wash asked skeptically.

With one of his twinkles, Book said, "The words 'straitlaced' and 'puritanical', also came to mind."

"Mal? Psychotic rebel outlaw criminal mastermind Mal?" Wash corrected, "_Petty_ criminal mastermind Mal who'll kill a dozen folks without blinking to save a whorehouse? That Mal?"

"That Mal," Book said. "And I'm fair certain he soaked up a lot of learning on that world. Hard for someone to leave all the teachings of their youth behind, no matter how hard they try."

Wash pointed a finger at Book. "You're crazy too, preacher."

"I am here, aren't I?" Book said with a chuckle. "Get on back to your wife, now, son. Put aside all your doubts and just do what your heart tells you is right."

Wash nodded. He glanced at the disk, with all the many more secrets it might reveal, then nudged it toward the preacher with one finger. "Thanks, Shepherd," he said. His head spun a bit as he stood. "You're a good bartender."

Climbing down into their bunk as quietly as he could, Wash saw Zoe finally slept. He glanced around. She'd tidied up a bit. He sat on the edge of the bed and regarded the scene with the dinosaurs she'd created. Hmmm… Zoe playing with his dinosaurs. That was new. Would there be shadow puppets next? Or goslings? He gazed over at her, letting his love for her overcome the apprehension and doubt. The Shepherd's words, and the alcohol, helped. Then he studied the scene she'd created. One dino in the middle with two attacking from either side. In front she'd placed two small dinos and tipped them on their sides. It didn't look random. Now what in hell could that mean?

* * *

"Mmmm…" Mal moaned. Inara's shuttle was brighter this time. "Is it morning?" he asked, despite years in space still unthinkingly equating 'brighter' with 'daytime'. 

"And then some," Inara said, presenting him with one of those ridiculously dainty teacups. About one swallow and not enough caffeine to make it worth the effort.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face. "Breakfast time?" He felt pretty good all things considered. Ready to get on with the day--which, with all the mess with Zoe and Wash looked to be a doozy even without any other problems to throw in the mix. Hopefully she'd gotten that all squared away and everything could get back to normal. Normal-ish would do.

"It's a little past breakfast," Inara said and Mal wondered at her amused expression. "A little past lunch, actually.

* * *

Zoe looked up from the table as Inara swept down into the dining room. Interesting, Zoe thought, how she 'swept' into a room, rather than just tromping on in like normal folk. Anyhow, she swept in, all perfume and coifed and silk gown swishing about, trailed a second later by the captain. 

In contrast, Mal looked all bleary-eyed and rumpled, still half-asleep. A little advice-taking going on, Zoe wondered. Which advice? And had it really been such a bright idea after all?

"Told ya!" Jayne exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the preacher. "Lookin' a little hung over there, cap," he said with a leering smirk. Mal gave him a dirty look.

Kaylee positively beamed at Mal and Inara. No doubting where she stood on this new development. River stared with a lost-in-the-woods expression, but then, Zoe thought, whoever knew what path that girl was on. Simon also looked curiously contemplative, apparently not jumping straight to Jayne's conclusion. The preacher somehow managed to combine surprised and pleased, shocked and disapproving, with wryly amused all into a hint of a smile. Wash… well, Zoe didn't look over at Wash, but he sure didn't have any funny comments to share with the gathering. She'd woken up wrapped in his arms, which was good if a touch claustrophobic. Now they stood at the formally polite truce stage, only necessary words spoken with exaggerated courtesy.

While Inara began fussing with some froufy beverage, Mal went straight for the coffee, clutching the cup like it was his dearest friend.

"How 'bout them techniques?" Jayne whispered, excessively loud, to Mal as he sat down at the table. "What'd I tell you, huh?" Inara smacked Jayne across the back of the head on her way past to her seat. "Ow! Whatcha hit me for, 'Nara?"

"Because I don't have a gun," Inara said.

Mal scowled but said nothing. Zoe met his eyes and she saw him give the barest flick of a glance at Wash with a question mark in his look. Zoe gave him a slight 'no'. She hadn't told Wash, and hadn't resolved things. Mal's scowl deepened. She countered with a question of her own about Inara, which got a 'hell no, it was just you making me swear to take those gorram drugs' in return. Expressed with the slightest of 'no' flicks toward Inara, a different one at Simon, and a more than a little accusatory glare for Zoe.

If anyone else noticed the silent exchange, Zoe couldn't tell it. She settled back in her seat, satisfied that all the necessary communicating had been done between her and Mal. Now it was just to the inevitable thing she was being so terribly avoidy about with Wash. She wished she could just avoid it forever… Mal must have caught her expression for it got a threatening/ordering look from him sent her way.

All the while, Kaylee chattered about how good it was they were all back and on _Serenity_. She fixed the captain and Inara plates of food while she did, with little nudging comments as she tried to get their story from the captain and Inara. From anyone else it would have come off as nervous prattling, Zoe considered, but from Kaylee it was pure, unencumbered sunshine. It was too bad, in a way, Zoe thought, that Mal regarded Kaylee as a 'little sister'. Even though she was a little young, she'd have made a nice pairing for him just as Wash had brought a light to her. Impulsively, she squeezed her husband's hand. He gave her a startled glance, but squeezed it back.

Inara, though… Zoe decided she'd keep her own council on that matter in the future, whether she thought he was making a big damned mistake or not. Well, maybe not. Hell, he wouldn't be bored, that was for damned sure. But he also wouldn't be content and at peace. But, then, he hadn't been for so long, she could scarcely recall the last time. It was on Shadow, that she knew. Long ago…

* * *

**_On Shadow, Years Earlier..._**

"Oh…" Mal sighed happily. "That just keeps gettin' better and better." He rolled away from Zoe. She grinned and pulled a strand of hay out of his hair.

"Don't be getting too used to it, farm boy," she said in teasing voice. "We're lifting tonight. Won't be back this way for a good six months. If ever."

He frowned. "I don't know about this space-faring life you got, darlin'. Never sticking around one place long enough to…"

"Sprout roots?" she finished for him. "Roots tie you down…"

"I'd like to tie you down." He gave her a saucy grin, grabbing hold of her arms. She promptly wrestled him into submission. Who really won the match, Zoe couldn't be sure. Mal was bigger and stronger, but she knew some rougher, no-holds-barred moves, and didn't have his quaint notions about playing fair. Zoe liked that he didn't mind losing to her. Lots of fellows couldn't take that.

"I'm talkin' serious here," she said as he blew her hair out of his face. "There's freedom out there in--what'd you call it?--the 'Black'. You get yourself on out where you can't be touched or confined or held down. No fences. Free." She met his eyes, measuringly. "You might like it."

Solemnly, Mal told her, "We got no fences here. Free range. And no one messes with us but what we can't handle 'em. But I will keep your words in mind." He looked thoughtfully at her for a long time. "You know I can't go leavin' here. Got the ranch and the folks on it, and that ain't gonna change."

"You won't go, and I can't stay," Zoe whispered. "Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted." She rolled away off of him, stretching out in the hay. Through the big door of the loft she could see the dreamy landscape of Shadow with its golden-red glow of the gas giant casting shadows even in the full of night.

"It ain't gonna end," Mal said seriously. "Couldn't 'xactly tell you the whys and wherefores of it, but I got the notion the good Lord's got a plan where we're concerned and He's aiming for us to have a lot of knowing of each other in the years to come."

Zoe scoffed. "You and that religiosity of yours. It's… kinda nice, actually. But, gotta tell you, seems like you're doin' a fair bit of sinning right here with me, by your rules. How's that notion faring with you?"

Mal contemplated for a long time, then grinned and rolled back over to her. "Guess that's so. And I 'spect there'll be a reckoning 'bout it somewhen. But for now, danged if I don't feel so shiny and happy and… _free_ with you, that I guess I'm just'a willin' to risk that hellfire and brimstone a mite bit longer."

With a laugh, Zoe wrapped her arms around him. "Why, you know just the words to make a girl feel all melty," she said teasingly. Their embrace tightened. Then a sound caught their attention. They looked up.

"Momma," Mal said.

"Daddy," Zoe echoed.

* * *

**_Now…_**

"Listen," Mal said, cutting into the conversation. "I ain't gonna say this but once and then you're all gonna good and gorram well drop it, 懂吗?" He glared around at them all fiercely, particularly focusing on Jayne and Kaylee. "Ain't nothing going on between me and Inara. We're just… friends." He looked down, pointedly focusing back on his food. It was a weird damn conglomeration, but reasonably edible--cooking showed the preacher's hand in it. Tastier than most any of the others managed. He ignored the loaded silence in the dining room, shoveling in the rest of the meal.

Then Jayne snorted. Loudly. What 他妈的 gems of wisdom was the big ape gonna come up with now? And would Mal finally be required to space him? Inara was a sore spot and he wouldn't count out the possibility, even if Jayne had done 'em good with the whole rescuing thing. Without raising his head, Mal glanced up.

"Hmph! You ain't friends," Jayne said, snorting again. "You two been sniffing 'round each other like a pair a dogs in heat long as I known you. You fight and insult each other and then you make googly eyes when you think no one's lookin', 'specially the other one. You ain't friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll hump, and you'll hate each other till it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends."

Shepherd Book spoke before Mal could announce Jayne's impending funeral. "Now, Jayne. I think you're speaking out of turn, here," Book began.

"Weren't no one else talkin'. Figure it was my turn right enough," Jayne said.

"That's not what I meant," Book said calmly, laying a hand discretely on Mal's arm. Mal didn't jump but he did glance down. Yes, he was clenching his tableknife awfully tightly. Forcibly, Mal eased up his grip. The preacher never took his attention away from Jayne, but gave Mal's arm a slight pat and withdrew his hand.

"What I mean, Jayne," Book went on, "is that not every man and woman who fights with each other is in love."

"Cigars are just for smoking," Wash inserted. Everyone turned to give him a blank stare, then turned back to Book.

Book continued, "People with strong personalities may often clash, yet logically for love to…"

Jayne cut him off with another snort. "What does a preacher know about it. Huh? Ask them two about logic--" he pointed to Zoe and Wash "--and love, 'cause they ain't got any. Logic, that is," He added. "They got the hot monkey love goin' on. I know, my bunk's next door. Which is what the cap and 'Nara would have if they wasn't both so freakin' uptight about it." He stared around the table. "Love isn't brains, it's blood... blood screaming inside you to work its will."

Jayne the psychoanalytical philosopher, Mal thought idly, deciding which airlock to let him ponder his next insights in while the air whistled away around him. Slowly, Mal set down his chopsticks and very, very calmly, exceptionally calmly, stood. It was really so very quiet in the dining room.

"Mal," Inara said, warningly. Zoe looked ready, as ever, to back him. Kaylee was flustered, wanting to defuse the moment but apparently not finding words.

But it was River who stopped Mal in his tracks by saying in a sing-song voice, "Two by two." His attention snapped over to her. That phrase meant a whole helluva lot more to him than it used to. "All the animals came on the boat two by two," she continued. Mal relaxed. She was just talking about the gorram ark.

Then River sudden looked up at the ceiling, staring. Mal tensed again. "They're here," she announced.

A loud _clank_ sounded on the hull, reverberating through the ship. Mal clutched the edge of the table as _Serenity_ trembled.

"What the hell…?"

"That's a grapple just hit us," Mal said, glancing over at the preacher. He nodded his confirmation.

Mal lit out on a dead run for the bridge, a step behind Wash and one ahead of Zoe. Everyone else followed on their heels.

"Reavers!" Jayne looked very much not bad-ass as his eyes darted around the ship. "And we ain't hardly got no guns onboard."

"Can't be Reavers," Zoe said. "Not here."

"How'd they come up on us without the proximity alarm…?" Kaylee started.

"Came up in our wake," Wash called.

"Like Early," Kaylee said and Mal heard the stark fear in her voice.

"It ain't like that," Mal said, though he wasn't sure what it was.

The comm crackled as a looming shape settled over _Serenity's_ bridge, enveloping the ship. "…Firefly transport. Stand down and prepare to be boarded." Then the message repeated. "This is the Federal Marshals ordering you to release your helm, Firefly transport. Stand down and prepare to be boarded."

Mal covered the camera with his hand as he slapped the comm. "Officers. Good day. What seems to be the trouble?"

The comm crackled again in return. "We're investigating the robbery of the Blue Sun treasury."


	28. Chapter 28: Preacher, Whore, & Thief

**Blue Sun Job: **_A Preacher, a Whore, and a Thief…_  
靑日 Job: _A Preacher, a Whore, and a Thief…_

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)

**

* * *

Chapter 28 **

Clanks and thuds against _Serenity's_ hull echoed as the Alliance ship settled in position over her. Demands for their surrender continued over the comm until Mal slapped the control to silence the gorram thing. Mal stared out the windows at the dark shape eclipsing the stars as it swallowed his ship. In the whale's belly, the thought came oddly to mind... again. There wasn't time for cursing, though the strongest words in the 'verse would certainly be appropriate. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. They'd gotten away with it, gotten away from the last mess.

"They're locking onto the cargo bay airlock," Wash announced. "They'll be trying to override the door in another minute."

Every eye fixed on Mal, waiting for the solution to pull their butts out of the fire. _High ground is death with that skiff in the air. That's our problem. Thanks for volunteering._ Zoe's eyes fastened on him, too. No suggestions from her, just questions waiting for the answers. It didn't look good. Couldn't run. Couldn't fight.

"Stop 'em," Mal told Wash.

"If you block them, they'll cut through," Shepherd Book said quietly. Mal stared over at him. Wreck the airlock, breach the ship. Probably gas them all before boarding.

"Stall 'em," Mal amended.

"How?" Wash asked, but even as he did Mal could see his hands fly over the controls, rerouting and changing the airlock commands, slowing the Fed's tap into _Serenity's_ systems.

"Tell 'em... Tell 'em... we're trying to comply but they're messing up our systems," Mal said. "Hell, tell 'em anything, just buy us a couple minutes." He turned away. Wash had to cope as best he could.

Turning to Zoe, Mal snapped, "Any hiding places the Feds didn't find the last time around we can stash those two?" He pointed sharply at Simon and River.

Zoe nodded. "Yes, sir. You, with me." She headed briskly off, Simon and River scurrying behind.

"And stay out of sight yourself, long as you can," Mal called after her. "Low and quiet--let 'em split up," he added. It was orders enough for Zoe. She'd know what to do.

"What's the crew complement on one of those things?" Mal directed the question toward Book. Somehow he knew the Preacher would have the answer.

"About twenty," Book answered without hesitation. "You can't fight it out with them and do anything but get killed."

"If I could breach their hull or their airlock with Vera...?" Jayne said it low. Mal studied him, trying to figure if he was serious; if it would work. Explosive decompression of the whole gorram Fed ship? Kill the lot of them? No turning back from that. Hell… no turning back anyhow.

Book shook his head. Mal wasn't sure if it was disapproval at the murderous plan, or...

"Wouldn't work," Book said. "Self-sealing compartments. You'd only take out a few. The rest..." Mal nodded. No need to go further with that. Mal saw Jayne's scowl. He didn't really figure Jayne was too itching to take out a whole mess of Alliance marshals no how. Willing, maybe.

Plan A. Plan B. Plan C, Plan D... 他妈的. He didn't have a Plan D. A was a stall, B was getting their fugitives out of sight, C was murder slash suicide. But if the Feds were here for the Blue Sun robbery, and they were after him... him and Zoe... _It's him..._ Last time 'round the Feds were specifically after Mal. Maybe, just maybe this time... Would they settle for just him? He couldn't let them take the ship, not with River and Simon onboard, no matter how well hidden. That was death to them all. If they'd settle for just him and let _Serenity_ go... Mal took a deep breath and met the waiting eyes.

"Okay," Mal said, "I'll meet them at the airlock, try to stall them off from searching the ship. Far as we know, Shepherd, Inara, and Kaylee, you're in the clear. Jayne... don't know. If they tracked that money you laundered, could be they tagged you. Cover me but don't get hasty. If worse gets to worst and I can't keep 'em out, maybe we can lure them in and you and Zoe can pick 'em off a few at a time. Wash.--" Mal turned around "--you stay out of sight. Hopefully I can keep them from looking for you..." 他妈的. They were gonna arrest him again and lock him up and...

"Captain," Shepherd Book caught his attention with the low, urgent tone Mal had heard from him before. The preacher gazed thoughtfully at the dark shape enveloping _Serenity_.

"What is it?" Mal asked. Book met and held Mal's eyes.

"It wasn't a robbery," Book said.

"Huh?"

Book shook his head but held Mal's eyes with intensity. "What you did. It wasn't a robbery. Technically, it was a burglary."

Huh? Okay. Yeah, sure. Robberies--technically--are done by armed force. They were armed but hadn't run into anyone, so, yes indeedy, the Blue Sun job was _technically_ a burglary. Interesting point, at any other time. But not so much at this very minute. "What you gettin' at, Preacher?"

"_They_ called it a robbery," Book said insistently. Mal stared hard, trying to divine his meaning. "They're the law. They called it a robbery."

Sonuvabitch. Mal saw the Preacher's point. Plan 他妈的ing D.

"Inara," Mal gathered his band with a wave of his hand as he hurried toward the dining area. Snatching the folder of ship's registry Inara had acquired, he tossed it to her. "A grand entrance..." Mal said, letting the notion hang in the air.

Mal headed toward the aft stairs.

"You got less than a minute before they're in," Wash called back from the bridge.

"Preacher," Mal said low to Book, "If you're willing, I'd sure appreciate if you could have that magic ident card of yours on hand." Book nodded. "Your call on when or if to play it, though," Mal added.

In the cargo bay, Mal pointed to the damning crate of Blue Sun platinum--Kaylee's engine parts--as he strode by toward the airlock. "Kaylee. Park your hiney on that crate and do your damnedest to look like an innocent kitten. Jayne..." He glanced up toward the catwalk where Jayne hung back just out of sight. "Just stay cool. We ain't in a position to take 'em on in a straight up fight. But I don't mean to just give in."

Mal sucked in a deep lungful of air as he reached the cargo bay doors and closed his eyes for a split. Through one of the windows, an angry face glared. Here we go... again, Mal thought and slapped the button. As the doors slid open a full half dozen Fed guns trained squarely on him. Mal's hands went up instinctively.

"Easy fellas," Mal said, trying hard to seem pleasant and agreeable, and don't-shoot-me-harmless. "Ain't none of us armed here. We're complying and such best we can. You just caught us unawares, sneakin' up on us from behind like that. Don't expect to get pulled over by the cops way the hell out here in deep space."

The senior of the marshals looked Mal over scornfully, then scanned the cargo bay. He moved to step in but Mal stepped quickly to block him. The gun barrels steadied on Mal.

"Step aside," the marshal snapped.

"We ain't done nothing wrong here, officer," Mal said insistently. Had to play it that way. Had to bluster and bluff through it. "You got no call to be boarding us." The officer gave Mal an up-down look laden with contempt. Ship of the disreputable type and the captain pulling a blatant stall at the door wore the wrong colors. Mal didn't need to be a mind reader to know where the Fed's assumptions immediately tracked. Course, he was right.

Yet, it weren't no small comfort to Mal that he was still on his feet arguing, not down on the deck bleeding or getting cuffed. Might could be the preacher was right. Dodge the bullet aimed square at 'em one more time? He saw the Fed's eyes stray over toward Kaylee and the crate of platinum. Was that a flicker of doubt in the cop's eyes? That girl never looked to be no master criminal. Then his eyes shifted again and Mal was hard pressed not to turn to look. Inara's grand entrance?

* * *

Concealed from view, Shepherd Book watched from the doorway of the common area before entering the cargo bay. The captain tried to play the innocent with the Feds, always a humorous thing to see. It would be a more convincing act if he could get that look out of his eye when he looked at them. And if the man could, for once, not dress in such overt Independent's apparel. Book gave a slight shake of his head. The captain knew full well he incessantly baited the Feds with his attire and did it on purpose. Ah, well, we all wear our uniforms, whatever they are, to say who we are inside, or who we want others to believe we are. Or perhaps, at times, to remind us who we aspire to be, Book amended, running a finger around the inside of his collar. 

Fingering the ident card he'd placed in his pocket, Shepherd Book considered the situation gravely. Was he about to help thieves escape the legal justice they'd so richly earned yet again? That choice had taken him no time to make. Simple necessity spoke to him on the point. Another cobblestone on the road to Hell? Still, the lack of boundaries between right and wrong, law and crime, judgment and sin kept reminding him of the crooked path on which he'd embarked when first entering _Serenity_. Wrong wasn't always wrong out in the Black.

He hadn't converted a one of them on this ship. Yet they'd drawn him back into parts of his life he'd tried hard to shun and forget. It was the lesson for both he and the captain, Book realized as he observed Captain Reynolds put himself between the marshals and his crew. Honor among thieves. What we were is always a part of who we are. Malcolm Reynolds, thief, killer, and hopeless reprobate who actively rejected God, was, in many ways, a better man than he, Shepherd Book. For all he'd lost, and the blows he'd taken, the captain hadn't hidden himself away from the world as Book had. He'd kept fighting the sometimes-not-so-good fight. Damn it! Book thought irreverently. Jayne was right about Mal. Jayne. From the mouths of really large, crude babes could come a raw truth.

There was a purpose, Book had come to believe, a meaning, in his presence on this ship. Whose path, and what purpose, he remained uncertain--his own? Or one of the others? The captain? He'd been drawn here to this ship, guided here, and must--to the best of his abilities--rely on faith that his purpose was to guide the lost onto their true path, or to secure his own direction. Maybe both.

The moment of epiphany flooded over Shepherd Book. He'd sat down with sinners and a harlot had pointed the way. He _was_ right where he ought to be. The point of no return in choosing a path through the tangled and merciless landscape stood before him. Commit to the path? Or step back into the pious, disapproving haze? _Here I stand,_ Book thought, contemplating the captain facing down the law and the legal retribution he'd justly earned. Book straightened. _I can do no other._

With his Bible clasped to his chest, Book strode slowly, yet confidently into the cargo bay. The captain didn't look around--wouldn't take his eyes off the enemy even though he faced them armed with nothing but defiance. Kaylee shot him a frightened glance as he passed her. That dear child had been through a lot too, the past week. Book should comfort Kaylee, but for what? For stealing? For killing? The child was a genuinely radiant innocent in a 'verse that ate innocents alive and spit them back out. Could the girl continue to walk in this world of violence and sin and yet keep her light shining? Could he?

And yet...

"Good day, officers," Book greeted them serenely, purposely not noticing the rifle barrels that swung his way.

"Shepherd?" The marshal examined him with obvious bewilderment.

"The noise on the hull drew me from prayer and meditation," Book commented, making sure he looked each of the men in the eye, personifying them and forcing them to do the same to him. It was exactly, and purposely, the opposite of how the captain treated such situations. Mal's eyes remained locked unwaveringly on the head man, the decision-maker. The others were objects. Not people. Objects he might have to end. Might end him. It was a cold, survivalist view of the 'verse. A necessary view for one who lived the life the captain did. Once it had been Book's view, but he had learned another approach. Each of these men would now hesitate to drop the hammer on the man who'd just warmly met their eyes man to man, human to human. This was why he'd told Simon not to think, just shoot. And why Kaylee couldn't shoot.

Book moved casually closer. The gun barrels didn't hold as steadily on him as they did on the captain. He smiled calmly. "What seems to be the problem here, sir?" Book asked.

"The Blue Sun treasury on Beta was robbed. We're stopping and searching all outbound ships from that system," the marshal said. Book could feel Mal's surprise at the volunteered information, though he admirably kept his mouth shut. Searching _all_ ships meant _Serenity_ wasn't the sole target. As Book had suspected from the marshal's use of 'robbery' rather than 'burglary', something else was at work here.

"Robbed?" Book said, feigning shock. "And the bandits got away?"

"Some of them," the marshal said. "Two were killed outright in the treasury, but an accounting in the vault showed a substantial amount of platinum was missing, so their accomplices clearly escaped."

Book dearly would have loved to exchange a glance with the captain at that bit of news, but dare not. He also would have liked to probe deeper into the story, but the guise of unknowing innocence would not permit it. Had Monty and his crew gone back in to the treasury?

"I'm astounded," Book said, clutching his Bible a touch higher, like a shield. He again scanned the others, meeting each one's eyes in turn. Their gun barrels lowered a touch further. "When did this shocking crime take place?"

"About twenty-four hours ago," the marshal said.

At that, Book did exchange a glance with the captain. Mal's puzzlement showed. It was about six days past that they'd stolen the Blue Sun platinum.

"Well, sir," Mal said, with a touch of hesitation in his voice. "Then you know for sure it ain't us. This boat torched on outta there long before that. Ain't no need to search us."

It would have been better, Book considered, if he hadn't added the last sentence. "Indeed," Book added. "This ship lifted from the port on Delta at least seventy-two hours ago."

The marshal's eyebrows raised. Disbelief? "Really? Your velocity and relative distance out of the system suggest you left far less than seventy-two hours ago."

Damn physics, Book could almost hear the captain think. _Serenity_ had left that system twice--first with Inara and Jayne aboard enroute to pick up Simon and River, then had returned to rescue the others before blasting out again, regrettably, about twenty-four hours ago.

"Well…" the captain started, stumbling a bit, while Book also tried to hunt for an explanation. "It's an old ship…" Mal said, gesturing with his still-raised hands.

"Yes," another voice came from behind them. Inara. Book turned and smiled. A grand entrance must also be a well-timed entrance, he thought with admiration. The lady waited until he and the captain had both run out of options and were fumbling, then arrived with a dazzling sweep of rich color and glitter--both in her clothes and the smile she graced upon the marshals. Book heard the intake of breaths from the boys arrayed in the airlock.

"Forgive me, officer, for not arriving sooner," Inara said smoothly as she flowed down the stairs. "As I'm sure you know, your arrival caught us unawares. It took me a moment to find our paperwork." She presented the leather folder to him with a graceful gesture. "As you can see, I purchased this vessel only a few days ago and immediately left the system." She favored the marshal with a heat-laden expression even a celibate Shepherd could feel. "As the captain here was starting to explain, this is an old ship, with quite a few miles on it."

She gave a dainty, fluttering gesture with her hands--a helpless, who-me female gesture as old as time. Book doubted Zoe ever had, or ever could, pull that off as convincingly as Inara. Even from Inara it was pure act, he knew. The marshal, on the other hand, remained locked in place, dazed and a mite flushed as he stared at Inara. The folder of documents hadn't moved a micron from when Inara put them in his hand. "I don't even pretend to understand all the science and mechanics behind it all," Inara went on. "But the captain here assured me it was safest if we started out slowly. We didn't want to run the engines out all the way until they'd been tested--took our time about accelerating."

The marshal shook himself, glancing quickly at the captain and Book before returning his gaze to Inara. "Miss Serra?" he asked. "Don't you remember me? It was years ago, on Sihnon."

Inara beamed at the marshal with a sudden show of surprise and recognition. She was an astonishingly good actress, Book silently applauded, as she evidently had no idea who this particular Fed was. It also gave Book a flash of sorrow for the young woman that she could have been intimate with so many and yet have shared no hint of actual intimacy with any. Flicking a glance at the captain, Book saw his face frozen, eyes gone dark as he watched Inara take the officer's hands, laughing and smiling at her artificial recollection of pleasure with the Fed. Mal had just spent the night in Inara's bed though, Book suspected, it was another case of 'sleeping' together meaning 'sleeping' and nothing more. But judging from the reaction contained behind Mal's eyes, Jayne had struck another chord right on tune where the captain and the Companion were concerned.

"Oh, of course." Inara's laugh twinkled. "Do forgive me." She leaned and whispered, loud enough for the marshal's men to hear, "I'd have recognized you at once if you were out of that uniform."

The marshal blushed slightly, but did puff his chest out a touch proudly. Book saw Mal roll his eyes, finally looking away from the lead man of his enemies. Inara had definitely defused the tension and suspicions. She leaned in close and she and the marshal exchanged a whispered conversation.

"Well, of course," the marshal said, glancing cursorily over Inara's ship documentation, scarcely taking his eyes off the Companion, "your paperwork is in order." He handed the folder back to an aide who consulted a Cortex screen.

"Yes, sir. This vessel does show departure from Delta three days ago. But the bow markings and name on the side don't match these documents," the aide said after a moment.

"Well, we haven't exactly had time to repaint," Inara said, fluttering her eyes imploringly at the marshal. "Oh dear… are you going to have to cite me for that?"

"I think we can let it go this time," the marshal said, raising her hand to his lips. The man appeared positively besotted. Book risked another glance at the captain. He'd put on a studiously blank expression.

The marshal straightened. "Just a routine check of identities of those onboard should do it," he added, looking pointedly at the captain, then toward Kaylee.

"And I must say 'oh dear' again," Inara said in a sorrowful purr. She lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially to the Fed, "As you can see this ship has a bit of a _disreputable_ look to it. As I hear it, it was actually confiscated from criminals. Well, I needed a crew quickly and that port on Delta isn't entirely respectable in every regard--you understand--so I'm afraid I wasn't too particular in checking the backgrounds of the crew. Yet I simply can't afford to lose any of them way out here in space on a technicality…" She trailed off. It was a cliché, Book realized, but she literally batted her eyes at the man. Seeing the marshal struggle with his conflict of duties, Book decided it was time to step back in.

"I helped Miss Serra acquire some crew, officer," Book inserted. "I came to know many of these people through my mission work." The captain would loathe that claim, Book thought, quelling an urge to look at him. "Their histories may not be sterling in every regard, but I assure you they're competent ship handlers and trustworthy custodians of Miss Serra's wellbeing. The lady is in good hands. I take it as a personal obligation, for her kind charity to my work, to ensure her safety." He gave a sincere smile and glanced back toward Kaylee, cowering on the crate of stolen platinum. "And she graciously permitted me to bring along some passengers. Miss Serra is helping that poor waif find a new home and life."

"I understand, Shepherd," the marshal started, "But I still…"

"Oh, please, feel free to verify my credentials," Book said, handing over his ident card. He tried to hand it to them in such a way that it faced away from the captain but the aide turned it as he took it. From the corner of his eye, Book saw Mal's eyes widen a touch, but he didn't change the carefully blank expression.

After due consultation of the Cortex screen, the aide and head marshal nodded. Handing Book's card back, the marshal said, "Very well. This clearly isn't the ship we're after. I'll overlook any other of your unintentional violations." He gave a sharp gesture to his men, who backed down the airlock toward their own ship. The captain cautiously lowered his hands.

"Please do wave me," Inara murmured as the marshal again raised her hand to his lips.

"Just as soon as I'm able," he answered. He turned to his aide who handed him a flyer. "Here's a bulletin on the robbery we're investigating, in case you run across anything." He handed the animated sheet to Book.

The airlock door closed behind the last of the Feds. With a deep sigh, the captain slapped the inner airlock controls. As the doors slid closed, Book saw him stare at the deck, breathing deeply.

Clanking again resounded against the hull as the Alliance ship retracted its grapples.

"They're gone," Wash's voice sounded over the comm. "Detached and heading away."

Footsteps sounded on the catwalks as Zoe and Jayne came into the cargo bay. Book glanced up. Zoe carried a large knife. Jayne held another so huge it almost qualified as a sword, with Vera slung over his shoulder. If the marshals had boarded it would have been ugly. Sitting on her crate, Kaylee gave a little whimper and dropped her head into her hands.

"What the hell happened?" Mal demanded.

Book handed him the bulletin. "It appears someone attempted to rob--burglarize, rather--the Blue Sun treasure only a few days after you. It turned into a genuine robbery when they encountered vault guards, took them hostage, and tried to force their way out. The vault was gassed, killing the robbers and the guards."

"Nice bunch," Mal muttered, staring at the sheet. Book wasn't sure if he meant the robbers, or Blue Sun who gassed both the robbers and their own guards. "I know this fella," he said, pointed to a picture of one of the dead robbers. He tilted the sheet toward Zoe.

"Yes, sir," she said, peering at the picture. "From the prison. He was in on the tunnel." Book leaned in to look. The picture shifted to the other dead robber.

"Don't know that one, though," Mal said.

"I do," Zoe said. She shook her head with disgust. "That's the bastard followed us on the shuttle from Beta to Delta. The one I thought I recognized."

Mal shook his head. "You are never wrong on that stuff."

Peering over their shoulders, Jayne added. "Yeah, I seen that one too. At that first meet with Monty. You was facing 'way from him, Mal, but I was eyeing him on account of he seemed a mite too interested in you all."

The captain handed the sheet back to Book. "So it 'pears," Mal said, "we had someone doggin' us the whole way, only it wasn't the law. That fella musta figured out what we were up to and got himself ahold of another one of us that knew about the entrance and codes and such and just tagged on in on our heels. Figured if it worked for us, it'd work for him. How 'bout that?"

"Only they missed the extra layer of security added," Zoe commented. "They tripped the beams, brought the guards down on 'em."

"If it wasn't for River and her gizmo…" Mal said quietly, seemingly more to himself than to the others. Book narrowed his eyes curiously at that comment. A sound from the catwalks caught their attention. River, Simon, and Wash walked down to join them.

"Did you bring it back?" River asked Mal.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. We used it up there, just like you figured," he said. He glanced over at the others. "A little doodad River gave me. Just a bitty Blue Sun advertising gadget. Turned out to be mighty handy on the job, though."

"Used it up?" River cocked her head, looking puzzled.

"Sure. Used the battery on the security system," Mal said, "and then used a piece of the case to hold the vent screen back closed behind us."

River gave him a keen look. "You left a piece?"

"Yes… needed to," Mal said slowly. He peered closely at the girl. "There a problem with that?"

"Did you leave fingerprints on it?" River asked.

Book saw the captain grin. "Ain't no mind reading genius, girl, but I ain't that stupid."

River grinned back. "I mean my fingerprints."

The captain groaned.

"Still…" Zoe inserted thoughtfully, "if they did find River's fingerprints in there, with robbers we have no connection to…"

"…and thinking mayhaps River got away with the rest of the loot…"

"…then we're in the clear and River's gonna get a name for pulling off the biggest hit on Blue Sun ever!"

Everyone exchanged a bemused look. Book saw the brotherly-protectiveness shield of Simon's flash up, about to speak in protest, when River spoke up again--

"Good!" She snapped off a stream of the nastiest and most graphic Chinese cussing Book had ever heard. The captain looked amused. Jayne looked slightly shocked. Wash admiring, and Simon embarrassed. River spun and dashed off toward the rear of the ship leaving the others standing in stunned silence.

"She don't much like Blue Sun," the captain commented mildly. He glanced at Jayne. "You might want to avoid wearing that shirt around her," he said. "You really do look better in red."

* * *

That too-gorram-much feeling threatened to swamp over Mal again. Book and Inara just pulled his ass out of the fire one more time. If that Fed had done an ID scan on him he'd have been humped in the least fun way ever. 

"This could still come back to haunt us, sir," Zoe said low to him, drawing him back a few steps from the others who chattered nervously about what had just happened.

"I know it," Mal answered dully. "Sure as certain we're gonna be on the suspect list, but so is everyone else who was in that prison. What? Hundreds still alive?"

"Yeah, but the list shortens up a mite when you narrow it to those as got a rep for crime," Zoe said. "We gotta unload this platinum quick."

Mal suddenly chuckled. "We got away with it, Zoe. Sure, the bastards will suspect us. Hell, they suspect us all the time for every damned thing anyhow. It's like you said way back, we're nothing but criminals to them, always were. But this one--I call this one a win." He paused and added thoughtfully. "Just too bad we can't go back and have another run at that treasury."

He was gonna cherish Zoe's expression for a long time. "You weren't seriously thinking about going back in there, were you?"

"Why not? The setup was still there, all intact. And this one went smooth," Mal said with a grin. "Well, it did. Everything else around it went well and truly to hell, but the job, that was smooth."

Zoe gave him the look he was intimately acquainted with. "You're crazy, sir."

He studied her a long moment, suddenly aware Wash watched them from near the others. "And what does that say about you?"

With a mysterious half-smile playing over her lips, Zoe held his eyes for a few measured beats. "Maybe that I like crazy men with warped senses of humor," she said softly. Then she turned toward her husband, pausing to look back over her shoulder and add, "sir."

Women could be purely problematical at times, Mal considered as he watched Zoe latch herself back onto Wash, twining her arms in his. He'd lived with that one near half his life and still she managed to perplex him now and again. Weren't no wonder Wash was well on his way to a bout of the crazies his ownself, what with the dribs and drabs of his and Zoe's weird history coming up to smack him around every now and then, and what with Zoe holding back on important parts she ought to be spilling out to him, things the man had every right to know. Mal shook his head. It weren't near over. The damned drama and fighting between them two. Between us three, he amended, to himself. 他妈的. Hadn't even come to a full boil yet.

It had been so much simpler when it was just him and Zoe. Then Mal let the voices echoing in _Serenity's_ cargo bay sink into him. Friendly voices. Familiar voices. Sometimes quarrelsome. Sometimes annoying. Not necessarily friends. Not necessarily comrades in arms. Something else… family.

It wasn't exactly a cheering thought. Families died. Families left. Mal looked at Inara, as she watched him covertly. Spent a night in her gorram bed. How many Feds had lain where he had? How many had… Even though he knew she was a whore and did that for a living, he still couldn't quite finish the thought. 他妈的, Jayne was right. And that notion was as galling as the truth of it--he and Inara would never be friends. It was all or nothing. And that left purely and exactly nothing.

He ought to be thanking her for saving him and the ship, but somehow he couldn't manage the words. Instead he sealed and locked that door--what Zoe'd call avoidance, 'cause the denial just weren't happenin' after that little scene with the Fed she'd humped for money--turning instead to Shepherd Book. "Preacher," Mal said. "I think you owe me."

Book raised an eyebrow, amused. "That's an interesting reaction to me helping to save you. Twice."

"Nope," Mal said, chewing over the card he'd seen the preacher hand those Feds. "You owe me." He lowered his voice, though none of the others seemed to be paying any mind to the two of them. "There's a tale I think it's time we ride on back to."

Remembrance lit in the Shepherd's eyes, along with it a spark of taunting defiance. "And how do you figure that?"

Mal gave the preacher a cool smile as he considered a moment. "E-C-C-one-two-one-zero," Mal said evenly.

Shepherd Book studied him a moment. Mal could see him process that bit of code, then smile a touch sheepishly as it clicked into place. With a solemn nod, the Shepherd said, "Of course." He gestured toward the passenger dorms. "After you."


	29. Chapter 29: in a Spaceship

**Blue Sun Job:** _...In a Spaceship, and the Thief said..._  
靑日 Job: _...In a Spaceship, and the Thief said…_

* * *

Disclaimer: The verses from Ecclesiastes were edited for content and phrasing by the author to adapt to the purposes of this story from the King James and New American Standard versions of the Bible--let's call this the 23rd Century Reformed edition for sci-fiy purposes. You can read this passage unedited in several versions by searching at "The Unbound Bible".

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap  
**

* * *

Chapter 29 **

**Prelude: ECC1210**

"_E-C-C-one-two-one-zero," the captain said to the preacher with a hint of challenge. _

_With a solemn nod, the Shepherd relented and answered, "Of course."_

Ecclesiastes, chapter 12, verse 10:  
The preacher sought to find out acceptable words and to write words of truth correctly.

Ecclesiastes 12: 1, 2, 5-12, 14 _paraphrased_

Remember also… in the days of your youth,  
before the evil days come  
and the years draw near when you will say,  
"I have no delight in them";  
before the sun and the light,  
the moon and the stars  
are darkened,  
and clouds return after the rain.

Furthermore, men are afraid of a high place  
and of terrors on the road.  
For man goes to his eternal home  
while mourners go about in the street.  
_Remember Him_  
before the silver cord is broken  
and the golden bowl is crushed,  
the pitcher by the well is shattered  
and the wheel at the cistern is crushed;  
then shall the dust return to the  
earth as it was,  
and the spirit will return to God who gave it.

"Vanity of vanities," says the Preacher,  
"all is vanity!"  
And moreover, because the Preacher was wise,  
the Preacher also taught the people knowledge;  
and he pondered,  
searched out  
and arranged many proverbs.  
The Preacher sought to find acceptable words  
and to write words of truth correctly.

The words of wise men are like goads,  
and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies;  
they are given by one Shepherd.

But beyond this, my son, be warned:  
the writing of many books is endless,  
and much study is a weariness of the flesh.

For God shall bring every work into judgment,  
with every secret thing,  
whether it be good,  
or whether it be evil

**...In a Spaceship, and the Thief said...**

"So, what kind of cop were you?"

Shepherd Book chuckled as he slid the door to his room closed behind Mal. And more significantly, Mal thought, is that _were_ and not _are_? Carefully holding his expression neutral, Mal folded his arms across his chest and studied the preacher. Finally gonna get some answers? Mal had his own notions on Book; just waiting to see if they held out or not.

"Jayne once said he figured I'd either spent a lot of time hunting bad cops," Book said with a vaguely amused tone in is his voice, "or was one."

"And what did you say?"

"Maybe both," Book answered. Mal noticed his smile fade a touch.

"Yeah," Mal said slowly, thoughtfully, watching as the Shepherd crossed his room to the far wall, doing something with the panels. "Weren't a big leap to figure you was some kind of cop, somewhere or 'nother. From the things you know. Things you say. Question is, which side?"

Book glanced at him. "I wasn't in your war," he said, still manipulating the wall panels. Mal cocked his head, studying what he did.

"Which means what, exactly?" Mal asked.

Pausing in his curious working at the wall panels, Book examined Mal. "You tend to see the 'verse in an 'us' or 'them' way--Independent or Alliance. That wasn't always the way of it. Long before you were even born, when I was young, there were other factions… even other wars. Not on so grand a galactic scale, nor as decisive, but to the men killed, the size of every war is as small as the diameter of one bullet, and as huge as their entire existence."

Too many images came into Mal's mind. Forcefully, he pushed them down and away, concentrating on the Shepherd.

A section of wall panel gave a 'pop' and swung outwards a few inches. Mal's eyes widened. Book gave him a mocking grin. "I sailed on a Firefly long, long ago," Book told him. "These ships are littered with hidey-holes, big and small. I suspect I know of a few even you don't."

"So I'm thinkin'," Mal said--case in point--as Book reached into the narrow space. "You ain't exactly said you weren't Alliance," Mal went on, pausing a split but Book said nothing, "but I couldn't never figure you for an out-n-out Fed neither, not even after I saw you hand an Alliance officer an ident card that had him drooling all over himself to tend to you. And now, I just saw you hand a different card over to another Fed." He paused as Book took a small folder out of the wall. "Just how the hell many Books are there?" And how many are good Books?

Turning to face Mal, Book opened the folder and pulled out an Alliance ident card. He placed it face up on the small table that stood between them. Then another. Then another, dealing them out like a hand of solitaire. Mal felt a grin spread across his own face as he stared. Had to admire a really good bit of nefarious. Another card--the one Mal had seen him hand the Fed at the _Magellan_--and then Book reached into his pocket and added the final card, the one he'd just shown the marshals.

"Think you're the only one who can have a fake ident card?" Book asked, his eyes twinkling at Mal.

Grinning at the array spread out on the table, Mal said. "Well that there is a purely fine hand of cards you dealt out, preacher." He looked up at Book. "You tricked me into lettin' on I had some knowing of your Bible with that code 狗屎 of yours, so I am just itchin' to see what chapter and verse you yank up to justify this little bit of chicanery." Mal gave Book a challenging stare.

Book laughed out loud. "Oh… son… look here…" Mal followed his finger to a small line of text imprinted on each of the ident cards. "What does that say?"

"Property of the Union of Allied Planets," Mal read, then looked up at Book, puzzled.

"'Render unto Caesar…'" Book quoted.

"'…things which are Caesar's'," Mal finished. He gave an admiring snort. "Gorramit, preacher, that there is a fine little kneecap trick of words."

A silence stretched out between them, the preacher's smile fading as he distractedly straightened the line of cards with one finger. Book sat down, gesturing for Mal to do the same. Pulling up a chair, Mal leaned back and contemplated the Shepherd.

"Sorry," Mal said, low, after a long moment.

Book looked at him curiously. "What for?"

Mal shrugged. "The kneecap crack. I'm grateful as all get-out for your helping save my sorry behind from Niska, but I gotta figure all that shootin' and killin' brought you back to a when and where a fella who's a goody-goody Shepherd now ain't too comfortable revisiting." He scoffed softly. "Been a whole lot more of me leading you astray than the reverse."

Book chuckled. "Oh, come now, captain. I've made some headway with you--as my mission, that is," he added with a quick grin. "Why it's not more than a year and I finally got you to admit to a knowledge of the Good Book." His grin at Mal broadened. "And it only took the Alliance military, the police, a few days of psychological torture, the threat of prison, oh… and a few drugs, to get you to slip up on that point."

Unable to hold back a laugh, Mal still felt obliged to put Book off that trail. "It's like I told you, preacher. What I was force-fed as a youngun…"

Book held a hand up. "Don't even try," he said. "You know I don't believe that." Book gave a small shake of his head. "Well, I do believe you had a sound religious training as a youngster--when you finally said you were from Shadow, that gave me a good notion on how you probably were raised up." He looked at Mal contemplatively. "They were good folk on that world," he said quietly.

"They _were_," Mal said, carefully pulling his control down around him, stepping back from the conversation and the memories. "Don't go there, preacher," Mal added in a whisper. Book nodded, a sympathy in his eyes that stung Mal. It was the understated, say-no-more understanding he got from Zoe.

"I didn't need to know how you were raised to figure out when it was you turned away from God," Book said.

"Preacher…" Mal started warningly.

"I knew the first day I met you," Book said, cutting off Mal's interruption.

Despite himself, Mal gave Book a questioning look.

Twirling the corner of his moustache, the preacher regarded Mal with a serious, probing expression. "Only someone who believed deeply and truly could be that angry at God. Non-believers simply don't believe. It takes someone who feels their faith was abjectly betrayed to reject God the way you do." Book leaned forward, meeting Mal's eyes with intensity. "Captain… Mal… You named your ship _Serenity_."

Mal could only hold the preacher's eyes for a second before he had to break contact and look away. He opened his mouth to spout angry defiance but had to stop when the words wouldn't come. Mal closed his eyes and let out a long slow sigh.

"Remember when you were young," the preacher said softly, sounding to Mal like he was speaking more to himself than to Mal, "before the days of darkness came, when all before you was light and promise, when you greeted life with joy…"

"Before it was all broken, crushed, and shattered?" Mal inserted, not hiding the bitterness in his tone. The passage the preacher echoed rang clear in Mal's mind. Hell, he'd brought it up himself; couldn't help but think on the words. "But it was, and there ain't no bringing any of it back. No where. No one. No how. To think elsewise is… well, it's all vanity, preacher." He took a sharp, stabilizing breath and fixed a hard glare at the Shepherd. "But we didn't come in here to talk about me. We came here to talk about you."

Book looked up at him with one of his shining smiles, this one shaded with a trace of past sorrows, Mal could see. "We are, son," the preacher murmured. Book sat back and sighed, his eyes playing over Mal. "I came to my 'Serenity Valley' long before yours was even a cloud on the horizon." He waved off Mal's questioning look. "It wasn't a battle--though I have seen a few of those--nor a long, slow dying of the ones around you you're helpless to save. We were facing different directions, Mal, and we turned down opposite paths. But we both came to a time and a place where everything forever changed. For me it was the moment when I heard myself say I didn't care if she was innocent or not."

Scoffing softly, Book went on, "The thing was, I'd said it before, said 'I didn't give half a…' well, I said it somewhat crudely. That particular time, though, I really heard it. The one looking back at me was… I'm not sure how to say this." He met Mal's eyes. "Have you ever looked at River and thought you'd do just about anything not to see that damaged little child be hurt any more?"

Mal just raised his eyebrows.

"Of course you have. You're quite the hard-hearted criminal at times," Book said with a chuckle. "That's really why they're here, isn't it?" Book shook his head thoughtfully. "This girl was as damaged and hurt as River. And as deadly dangerous. Yet just as innocent of the forces that made her so. I'd have been doing my job, and doing it exactly right, to have ended her right there and then. But I couldn't. So where did that leave me?"

"On the road to Damascus, I'm guessin'," Mal said.

With a pleased laugh, Book nodded. "Maybe not as profound as being struck blind with God's voice booming in my ear, but an awakening nevertheless. Years I spent tucked away, coming to terms with what was, until I decided to walk about in the 'verse again. And what should be the first thing I come upon but a place named _Serenity_. I was merely enjoying the irony when dear Kaylee informed me that I'd be coming with all of you." He spread his hand out. "So, here I am."

Mal studied the man a long moment. "That's a fine tale, but it still leave a helluva lot of questions unanswered. You say you weren't in the war? Well enough. I can believe that. Don't explain how you know codes our side used? Or how it is you can flash me underground recognition signals? Or a whole damn bunch of other perplexions that keep coming up and, even though I want to trust you, keep giving me the twitchies. You got any explanations for all that?"

"I do," Book said evenly. "But can you wait for the answers until we reach the Sanctuary? It will be easier to explain there."

"You ain't leading me into some kind of trap, are you?" Mal had to ask.

"You can answer that for yourself," Book said, not appearing offended.

Mal nodded. "Yeah. Guess I can, considering how many traps you just got me out of." He chuckled and stood. "All right, then. I'll be waiting on that tale of yours, preacher." He turned to leave.

"A moment, captain." Book stopped him. Mal turned back. "I believe this is yours." Book held the silver disk recording of the interrogations out toward him.

"Oh, gorramit." Mal gave an exasperated sigh. "Has everyone on the damned ship had a go at this thing?"

With a laugh, Book said, "I don't know about that. You gave it to Wash?" Mal nodded. "Mmmm… Wash gave it to me. I didn't listen to it, captain."

"Rose above that temptation, huh?" Mal asked. He spun the disk in his hands, then dropped it in his shirt pocket. Nearest damned airlock, he was spacing this thing. Well… maybe. He was kinda curious his ownself just exactly what he'd said in the fuzzier parts. Maybe after a time, a week or two, when it all wasn't haunting him so bad he could stand a listen without Zoe there nagging.

"Yes, sir. But the pride I'm feeling at that is going to take some atonement of its own." Book chuckled warmly, then gave Mal a solemn look. "You have serious troubles brewing between Wash and Zoe… and you."

"I know it," Mal said flatly.

"Wash talked with me last night. I think I helped. I want to help. Let me," Book said.

Mal regarded him carefully. "It's all kinda personal and private."

"This is the sort of work a Shepherd does. Let me do my job." He shrugged. "Earn my keep."

"You earn your keep well enough as the best cook we've ever had that I don't pay a wage," Mal said with a grin. "And the occasional dramatic rescues of my ass certainly earns some credit."

"Speaking of which," Book inserted, "You'll be paying me a cut of the Blue Sun job loot."

"Will I?" Mal said. Like hell, he thought at first, then realized they wouldn't have any of it if not for the Shepherd. "You want a cut of stolen money? Okay. Hell, it's worth a cut just to hear the justification you come up with for this one."

"Maybe I intend to beat the platinum into plowshares," Book said, with a small smile. "But you're just trying to divert me. We were talking about you, Zoe, and Wash."

"No, you were. I was trying not to," Mal said.

"Sit back down, please," Book said. Mal hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. He and Zoe weren't managing to resolve the situation too well, maybe the preacher could get Wash all straightened out.

Sitting down, Mal said, "Okay. You got my attention. What's your bright notions?"

"What is Zoe to you?" Book asked bluntly. "How would you define your relationship with her?"

"Huh?" Mal shook his head. "I don't know. Anyhow, it's Wash we're trying to get fixed, not me."

Book studied him seriously. "First, you have to realize that's wrong. It's the three of you in combination that needs to be 'fixed', as you put it. And it's also the individual pairings--you and Zoe, Zoe and Wash, and you and Wash. Right now Zoe's in the middle of two very powerful relationships and she's going to be pulled apart between them unless you and Wash come to terms. Terms all three of you can deal with and accept. Let me ask again, how would you define your relationship with Zoe? Would you call her a friend?"

"Oh, gorramit…" Mal sighed heavily. "No. Zoe's not a friend. That word's just too… weak-ass lame. She's… ummm… I don't know… my partner. My right-hand man. Woman," he corrected. "She just _is_."

"Always at your side," Book said very softly, "loyal, trusted, half of your whole, colleague, comrade, the one you don't have to explain things to, who always knows what you're thinking, who accepts you as you are when no one else would, cares for you, doesn't judge you. Sticks with you in the bad times no matter what. The person who makes you feel safe, secure, complete. Does that sound like Zoe?"

Nodding slowly, Mal said. "Yeah. Guess so. Watches my back and I never doubt it."

Book gave him a bland smile. "Yes. That's a description of a good wife, and that's what's driving Wash to distraction."

"But Zoe and me… we never…" Mal protested.

"Never what?" Book cut in sharply. "Been legally married?"

"Uh… Right."

"How long have you two been together?"

Mal shook his head again. "We hooked up about the second year of the war. Been together ever since. The years in the army, then all the years since. Twelve, thirteen years or so, I guess. Known her a bit longer, first met sixteen, seventeen years back."

"And you've been intimate," Book said it as a quiet statement, not a question.

Mal reeled back. "Okay. Wash has been talkin' outright to you, or you are real damned perceptive."

"Wash said it," Book said. "And it surprised me. I truly didn't think your relationship with Zoe ever included that element. But he said that when you and she were young, before the war, back on Shadow…"

"Yeah," Mal cut him off. "We were and we did. And it all went to hell on us and came close to splitting us up forever. But we got over that. Past it. It's history. Dead and buried. We never revisited what went on back on Shadow and I'm fair certain never wanted to. Wouldn't be right. We got no lusting going on between us, in our hearts or out. Wash has got no worries in that regard."

"Hmmm…" Book contemplated him in a way that made Mal uneasy. The preacher was just too damned sharp at figuring things out. "I'd make a fair guess that as sergeant you would never have relations with a soldier under your command, correct?"

"Correct," Mal said, glad to be back on steadier territory. "Nor as captain to anyone who answers to me," he added.

"Yes." Book took a deep, slow breath as he studied Mal measuringly. "That, however, leaves a few years unaccounted for in between. The two years you were in that prison…"

"We were still--far as we were concerned, at least--in the army, still sergeant to private. On top of which we were watched every gorram minute," Mal said. "Can't speak for anyone else there, but knowing the guards would be peepin' in on the show sure as hell was enough to put me off my feed. Others, there, though… I recollect this one time…"

"You're trying to distract me again," Book said with a chuckle. "What about the years between then and when you got _Serenity_? It was just you and Zoe, together, wasn't it? Living together? Sharing a residence? Perhaps a…"

"A bed?" Mal finished for him. "Hell, yeah. I've probably shared a bunk with Zoe more nights than Wash has. I know I have--and that's sure as certain on the list of things he don't need to know."

"And as close as those living conditions were, and having no one else in either of your lives…"

"Okay, preacher. Stop." Mal rubbed his eyes. "There was a time or two…" He looked up. "We were doing a lot of drinking back then. Livin' the lowest of lives you can imagine. And getting in each other's way no end when it came to, you know, trying to fraternize with anyone else. Basically, I guess you could say--他妈的, Zoe did say--we were seriously screwed up. And just now and again we'd let things get out of hand… But it didn't _mean_ anything," Mal said, emphasizing the point, "and that's the sorrowful truth of it. And that's why we didn't… why we _don't_. Wasn't right. Never was. Never will be."

Mal let out a long sigh. "Don't see how any of this matters a hoot in hell to the here and now problem."

"It matters," Book said, "because of the burden of secrets being concealed. Secrets have a way of coming out, generally in the worst way possible. Wash is feeling the burden without knowing the cause. He and Zoe are still very much honeymooners. They've been so caught up in the excitement of new passion and romance that they've been avoiding the aspects of marriage that sustain it for the long run. The aspects that--in this odd situation--_you_ and Zoe have long since worked out. It's a marriage, with three partners."

Groaning, Mal dropped his head into his hands. "Well… that explains one truly bizarre question Commander Harken asked me. It was right after he come back from badgering Wash." He laughed suddenly. "So, the simple solution is for me to get hitched to Wash. Zoe does recommend him as a bed partner. I recollect saying to her once…" He stopped when the preacher made a disapproving sound. "I'm just funnin' with you, preacher. Their bed ain't near big enough for three."

Book rested his elbow on the table, toying with the corner of his moustache as he regarded Mal. "Do you _want_ Zoe and Wash to stay married?"

Mal intended to protest that it was none of his business, that it didn't matter to the ship's operation, that Zoe was an employee and while her personal life complicated their business association, it really wasn't… All the stock answers flashed through his mind in a moment. But he realized he and the preacher were past the point where such answers would hold a gram of water with Book. The man knew, in part at least, how tied he and Zoe were to each other. Others working their way in, Mal thought, pondering it. Things known only to he and Zoe, tightly shared secrets known to no other living souls in the 'verse… Letting another person in… Would it break the tie with Zoe? Shatter the closed vessel of secret history between them? Or open it up and let others be a part? Let her husband in to be a part?

He made her happy. In a way Mal never did, never could, Wash made her happy. He'd said to Zoe that Wash was a keeper. Yes, he meant it. Whatever the price. If the price of Zoe having a happy life meant the 'silver cord is broken, and golden bowl is crushed' between her and Mal, then so be it. It was worth the price.

"Yeah," Mal said out of the long silence.

"Even if it means they leave the ship? Leave your life?" Book asked it very quietly.

Well, that was just the heart of the matter, wasn't it? "Zoe won't leave," Mal said with certainty.

Book nodded, his eyes as he looked at Mal again filled with the say-no-more sympathy. "Not unless you let her."

* * *

Voices rose in escalating tones of anger rose from the infirmary as Mal and Book stepped out of his room. Behind the shouts of Zoe and Wash, Book could hear Simon's low voice ineffectually trying to bring reason into the mix. 

"…and you told _him_ first?" Wash shouted. From the captain's wince, there was no doubt in Book's mind which 'him' on _Serenity_ Wash meant. "Of course you would. After all, I'm only the father!"

"You've got it backwards, husband," Zoe's voice came, still sounding sweetly reasonable in her about-to-blow way. "The captain told me."

"And how would he…"

Book turned to Mal. "What's going on?"

The captain gave him a grim look. "Your next job," he said.

Hmmm… in that offhand way, the captain had given him sanction--an order, actually--to intervene and act as counselor. It was definitely a step, but 我的妈 _(trans. wo de ma mother of god)_, what a minefield to be dropped down into the middle of.

The captain's often-unfathomable eyes studied Book for a long moment, then he reached in his shirt pocket, pulling out the little silver disk. He handed it to Book, then turned, striding off up the stairs without another word or a backwards glance.

Watching the captain's feet disappear up the stairs, Book wondered if the man had any concept of just how much he loved that woman. But could he love her enough to let her go?

* * *

At least she'd finally told Wash about the not-baby, Mal thought as he stared out into the Black from the pilot's seat on the bridge. If the who-knew-first question was causing that much explosive yelling, the 'interesting timing' part was like to cause a 他妈的 nuclear blast. 

He and Zoe had argued many a time over the years, even yelled and shouted. A few times small objects had been hurled about, though generally not directly at each other. But they had never fought with the all-out consuming passion that she and Wash did. And didn't that just say it clear?

Mal counted across the stars in view, but ended up staring into starless part of the sky. He checked their course. After the stop by the Feds, Wash had aimed them 'up' above the galactic ecliptic, where stars were few and Feds were fewer. Good. Mal'd been thinking to do the same thing himself. Had to make gorram sure they weren't tracked to the Shepherd's Sanctuary.

A quick stop to pick up the Doc's gear… No, Zoe had the notion. A few days someplace quiet. Lay low and let the others decompress from all the tension and traumas of the past week. Be for the best. Shepherd said he'd spill the rest of his tale there, too, so best not to plan to rush. The others needed the time anyhow…

Zoe needed to tell Wash about the _other_.

No.

Yes.

Mal moaned softly. Only two people yet lived in the 'verse who knew. Maybe it was better it stayed that way. _Secrets have a way of coming out._

_The words of wise men are like goads…_ Which goads would the preacher be jabbing 'em with, now that he had authorization to do so.

Pirates with their own Shepherd.

Malcolm Reynolds talkin' religion again with a preacher. Huh. Didn't change nothing. Gazing out into the void, he thought how it didn't change a gorram thing.

Did Zoe ever think about the lost one? Ever grieve?

She'd been worrying on _him_ last night when she found out about this lost almost-baby. Wouldn't take the comforting herself.

And they all thought he was the crazy one…

The Black was a comfort. The darkness upon the face of the deep. The nothing…

They didn't know of the Zoe who woke up screaming, wanting him near but refusing to be touched. No touching.

She got past it. Soldiered through, like they all did. It was harder for the womenfolk, though.

The unimaginable darkness… The violations that wound not just the body but the spirit.

Locked in a grave with the ghosts… so many ghosts. It was harder being trapped in the darkness, not knowing, imagining, than to see plainly with his own eyes. That guard touched her wrong and Mal tried to kill him, never minding if it cost him his own life. No one was gonna do that to Zoe ever again, not if he could help it.

He couldn't help it.

She never would say what happened to her after they dragged him off; just clung to him in the night without a word. Who was saving who? _(This story told in __"Truthsome" chapter 4: Darkness)_

They didn't know the Zoe who had a string of meaningless affairs, as if to prove to herself that she could do... _that_. He had to stand back and let her. Mal chuckled grimly. 'Cept for a few of the bastards he punched out before they got the chance. The worst of the lot that just weren't looking at her right. Weren't no better than the sumbitches who hurt her in the first place. Worse yet when they let their ownselves get out of hand and… Weren't right.

Couldn't save her, though. Couldn't save any of them.

Wash made her smile. Made her laugh. Made her love. Like a girl…

Mal didn't turn at the soft sounds of another person entering the bridge. He knew that whispery quiet movement.

"Hey, River," Mal said, looking up as she came to stand by the pilot's seat.

The girl stared off into the Black. She seemed oblivious to Mal's presence except her fingers dancing on the seatback came to rest lightly on his shoulder, barely touching, barely making contact.

"You readin' my mind?" Mal asked softly. Weren't a good place for a child to be roaming, not even one who'd seen more that her fair share of the bleak, hurtful nothing.

River didn't answer, just looked out the windows, a small smile growing on her face. "You know, you ain't quite right," she said, glancing down with a twinkle in her eyes.

Mal chuckled. "That's mutual, sweetheart."

She turned back to the Black. "When I expected good, then evil came; When I waited for light, then darkness came," she said in a melodic whisper.

Getting to be epidemic, this Bible-quoting, Mal thought, recognizing the little verse from Job. "Didn't feel a need to rewrite that one, huh, River?" Mal said. Then he answered for her, "No. 'Cause that one's just the plain truth, isn't it?"

"Father wouldn't come back for Simon," River said. "But Daddy came back for me."

Mal blinked, trying to fathom her meaning. "Having a bout of the cryptics today, little girl?" Actually, he had a hunch what she meant and it gave him the creepy uncomfortables all over that she should say it, think it, _realize it_. Looking down at her that first day in the infirmary, so small, so helpless, so innocent. Looking down, remembering… Mal closed his eyes and turned away from River. He wanted to send her back to her brother, but Simon would still be busy with Zoe and Wash. Zoe needed to tell him about the other.

River peered deeply into Mal's eyes and he just had the feeling she was about to say the Big Thing, the profound thing that would suddenly make it all come clear…

"You'll be paying me a cut of the Blue Sun job loot, too," River said sternly, then danced away off the bridge.

Mal laughed lightly, then turned back to the windows, admiring how pretty the stars looked way out here, the way they shone in the Black.


	30. Chapter 30: All Kinds of Wrong

**Blue Sun Job:** _All Kinds of Wrong_  
靑日 Job: _All Kinds of Wrong_

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)

* * *

**Chapter 30**

Zoe finally tracked down the captain in a storage room on the lower deck. He had a clipboard in hand and was inventorying ammunition and weapons. Substantial piles of the former, not so much of the latter. He didn't look up as she entered, nor even when she closed the door behind her--hard.

"We're pretty good on ammo," Mal commented, still not looking up, "but most of it's for weapons we ain't got no more. We're gonna have to do some serious hardware acquiring before we can tackle any situations."

Standing stock still, feet braced wide, Zoe folded her arms across her chest and glared at him silently. She waited. Mal opened another box and started counting rounds, ignoring her completely. Not moving a muscle, Zoe stared.

Half way through the box, Zoe broke him. She knew she would.

Slapping the clipboard down on the table, Mal turned to her, clearly pissed she could do that to him without a word.

"All right," Mal snapped. "What?"

"Did you tell that gorram preacher to interfere with my marriage?" Zoe demanded.

Mal gave her a dark smile. He in one of his mean moods? Sometimes he could be soooo irritating. "No." He turned back away from her but that wicked hint of a smile didn't fade. The captain picked up the clipboard and resumed counting ammo. "Told him to interfere with _my_ crew."

"Bastard."

Zoe saw Mal pause a moment, the challenging defiance they were playing between them dropped away. He sighed.

"Zoe…" Mal sighed again, meeting her eyes, this time with nothing in them but concern, worry, and even a touch of sorrow. "I got a pilot who's as like to shoot me as look at me at this very juncture. Got a first officer who's got herself and that pilot all twisted up and discombobulated to the point where I'm suspecting they ain't so much screwing each other as screwing each other up." Mal tossed down the clipboard and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired, in an overwhelmed, frustrated sort of way, Zoe suddenly thought, relaxing her angry stance. He needs...

"On top of which," Mal went on, "The ship's mechanic is turning into a quivering mess of the guilties--or haven't you noticed how when no one's lookin' that girl just sort of wilts in on herself? And Jayne's so gorram smug right now that he's like to get me to kill him just so's I don't have to listen to him any more. Especially when he's right. And…"

"And the captain's so lost in the woods his ownself with all the ghosts of the past coming up to haunt him and pull him off into the brambles that he can't find his own path, much less lead anyone else out," Zoe said abruptly.

Mal scoffed softly, contemplating the floor with an expression Zoe knew he'd never let anyone but her see.

"Very poetical," Mal said dryly, pretending to return to his inventory. Zoe noticed he counted and recounted a box of ammo he'd already done.

Perching herself on the corner of a crate, Zoe let out a long whistling breath. "ECC one two one zero," Zoe said. "What did the preacher say to you?"

Mal scowled at her. "You heard that? You got that?"

Zoe nodded. "You told me 'bout that bit with the Bible code Book pulled on you." She shifted and gave an amused chuckle. "Had to go look it up, myself, but figured you'd finally pinned him down into a confession."

Giving up the pretense of working, Mal leaned back against the bulkhead, folding his arms across his chest. "Sort of. Partly." Mal chuckled. "Man's got about a half dozen fake Alliance idents. Heaven--or hell--only knows what they read up when the Feds stick 'em in a scanner. But I did purely have to admire the artistry of it. Couldn't say yet which, if any of 'em is the real Book."

"Hmmm… So was he, or is he, a cop?" Zoe asked.

Nodding, Mal said, "Of some kind or another. I do believe it's 'was'. And I don't think it's Alliance. At least not like we mean it. But he's got a way of telling things without really telling 'em."

"He ain't the only one on this ship with that particular skill," Zoe commented, with a pointed smirk at the captain.

"That goes double for you, darlin'," Mal countered.

Zoe stared at him with a frown. Carefully, she said, "That's the second time in a week you've called me that."

She watched Mal rewind what he'd just said and play it back in his head. A weird look crept over his face, a somewhat frightened half-grin. He shook his head slowly, looking inward, then up at her. "I didn't even hear myself say it." He glanced away, still shaking his head slowly. It also made only the second time in a dozen years he'd called her that, not since she'd told him not to and he'd promised 'never again'. Lives and times long buried rising to haunt them.

Studying Mal closely, Zoe asked, "You believe he's really a Shepherd?"

Mal looked back at her seriously, "I do. Whatever else he is, or was, I do believe he's trying to fight the good fight."

Zoe didn't break her study of the captain. "You told him some stuff, didn't you? About us?"

Mal nodded. "Your husband already had a confession session with the preacher. The fella asked me some pretty damned pointed questions. But he wants to help." Mal shrugged. "Maybe he can."

"How far you willin' to go with this?"

Zoe watched Mal stare off into space--into the past--before returning to look deeply into her. "As far as you are, Zoe," he said evenly. "You had the notion of talkin' the dark nasties out first. Only you were after me to do it. Well, _darlin'_, you got your own scary places and they're as many as mine. Hell, a lot of 'em are mine," he added thoughtfully, then met her eyes with intensity. "You willing to stare into the heart of that darkness we've been buried in all these years?"

She didn't answer immediately. She dropped her eyes but his stare still burned into her. Zoe had lived in a kind of darkness longer than Mal had. Was the joy Wash had made her feel real? Or just a polish shining up the surface without touching what lay beneath? She didn't want to find out it wasn't real; to mar the shiny. But it was already being etched at from below and above and she was like to lose everything. How far would she go to save her marriage? To save her husband? To save Mal? To save herself? "Maybe you gotta climb up through the dark before you can really stand up in the light again," Zoe whispered. It wouldn't be easy. She looked back at Mal. "It could make things change," she said.

Mal held her look and she saw the flicker of fear and doubt in him. "Things have changed before," he said quietly.

"For better or for worse?" Zoe blurted out before she could stop herself.

Absurdly, Mal broke up laughing. _For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, 'til death do us part…_ Gorramit, but they had both been using bits of those old phrases to each other lately--ones they'd never actually spoken to each other but had been living by, nevertheless, for a decade and more. 他妈的! She did have two husbands. Talk about a conundrum.

Zoe's scowl deepened as Mal struggled to quit laughing, wiping at his eyes. Warped and inappropriate humor… damn, but she liked that in a man, even if she didn't so much laugh along herself.

Then Mal pushed himself away from the bulkhead and crossed the narrow space to stand in front of her. He took her hands and gently urged her to stand. Facing him, only inches apart, Zoe wondered what this was about; what notion he was pursuing.

Mal's eyes held hers. He wrapped an arm around her waist, jerking her tight up against him. A little rough. A little fierce. Their bodies pressed closely against each other. Her arm wrapped around him without her even realizing it. With one finger, Mal tilted her chin up. Slowly he lowered his lips to hers. Zoe's breath caught despite herself. First he merely brushed her lips, whisper soft, until she relented. The kiss deepened. Her lips parted. Tongues teased and played. Zoe felt her heart speed.

Then Mal broke the kiss, staring deeply and intensely into her eyes. "Nothin'," he said, letting go and stepping back. "You?"

Zoe grinned. "Nothin'," she said.

"All right, then," Mal said coolly, in his captainy tone. "We agreed? Let the preacher do his thing, and no holdin' back?"

"Yes, sir," Zoe said. "We're agreed."

A quick, formal handshake sealed the deal.

Mal stepped further back, giving the ammo and clipboard a distracted look. Zoe held stock still. "I'll get back to that later," Mal said, reaching for the door handle. He opened it and stepped through. As he slid the door closed behind him, Zoe heard him add in a low mutter, "I'll be in my bunk."

Holding her control stiffly until the door completely closed, Zoe burst into her own fit of inappropriate laughter. _Nothin'_, he said. Yeah, you lying bastard. That weren't 'nothin'' she felt pressing against her.

* * *

**_Zoe…_**

"All right, preacher," Zoe said, flopping herself down in front of him. "Go ahead and work your magic."

Oh, yeah, this was gonna go great, Book thought, with a small smile. Resistance was written all over her, in her stance, in the set of her mouth, and most of all in the hard look in her eyes. Book leaned back casually and considered her. Zoe was a splendid woman in every regard. Beautiful in body, obviously, but it was her spirit that had come to intrigue him. She said little yet seemed to see much. He had no doubt of her ability to control and contain her emotions--he'd seen it on several occasions. When Niska had kidnapped her husband and captain, Zoe hadn't so much as twitched. She'd displayed no anger, nor fear, nor worry. She'd just assessed the situation and acted with cool deliberation. She did what needed to be done--for both of the men. What she held inside her--when she had to walk out of there without the captain--he could scarcely guess.

With her husband she appeared gentle, loving, and enthusiastically passionate. With Mal, she sometimes teased, but more often behaved in a cool, formal, and militarily proper manner. Yet he'd caught the studied looks that passed between her and the captain, the silent communications. So much unspoken history between them...

He'd gotten a glimpse of that history from the captain in their last conversation but he knew much remained hidden; knew better now since he'd stalled Zoe off until he could listen to that disk of the captain being interrogated. Most of the war stories were dry recitations of impersonal details--the captain offering no more information than the Feds already had from their records--but a few moments stood out distinctly. Book knew those were the reasons Mal had changed his mind and given him the disk. And those were the parts about Zoe. So much dark, hidden history. The question was, how much did they hide from each other?

"Well?" Zoe asked, growing uneasy and impatient with his long, silent examination, just as he intended.

Book smiled at her. "Did the captain order you to talk with me?"

"Mmmm." She gave him one of her serene smiles, but her eyes never lost the cool, controlled hardness.

"That wasn't exactly an answer," he said. "You last left here a little angrily and a lot abruptly. I suspected you headed straight off to the captain." He paused, adding, "So did your husband."

With an exaggerated sigh of frustration, Zoe collapsed a little in on herself. "Yes. I went and asked the captain if he'd told you to interfere with my marriage."

"And?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Zoe said, a touch of annoyance starting to shade her tone.

"Still not answering the question, Zoe," Book nudged.

Zoe threw her hands up in a small gesture of defeat and sighed. "Ah, hell... Ain't used to sharing out our private dealings, the cap'n's and mine, but..." She gave Book one of her cool smiles, but this time there was laughter in her eyes. "I've been the one badgering Mal to do some talkin' it out on the troublesome things and times and here he goes and turns it right around on me. He can be an irritating son of a bitch sometimes. 'Course that's no secret to anybody." She shook her head at Book. "No, Mal didn't _order_ me to get with you on this. We reached an agreement. We'll go along with you and not hold back."

Book noted the shift from 'captain' to 'Mal'. "You think Mal has things he needs to talk out? To resolve?"

With a musical chuckle, Zoe said, "Now don't you go playing coy with me, Shepherd. You know good and gorram well that's the case. It shows all over him. Hell, even Jayne can see it."

"Mmmm." Book tried to sound noncommittal, but Zoe was right. It did show. Book scowled. "What was Mal like when you met him? How did you meet?"

Zoe gave a soft smile. "Dancing 'round a bonfire on Shadow. And I saw this fine young fella eyeing me." She chuckled. "Guess we weren't but sixteen. Kids. Kids with that bubbly 'verse-is-ours certainty about us… before we figured out we really weren't bulletproof." She gave a wistful sigh, then continued, "Talked together half the night. The other half…" Zoe broke off and Book would be willing to swear she actually blushed. "Anyhow, Mal was real sweet back then, a real gentleman. Polite. Didn't even hardly cuss. Always with a smile on his face. Cheerful. Infectious cheerful. He could put a smile on my face without half trying just with the sparkle in his eye."

Glancing up at Book, Zoe half-smiled. "I know that sounds strange to say it, but Mal really was very different than you see him now. Even right up until the end there, at Hera, he never did grapple with the notion of 'defeat'. Never did accept it way down deep no matter how many gorram battles we lost. Always optimistic, no matter how grim the situation looked. His troops took a lot from that, 'cause he wasn't fakin' it just for them. It was real and that showed. He believed it, so they believed it. Mal had so much faith…" She trailed off.

"In God?" Book asked quietly.

"Yeah," Zoe said with a soft sigh. She looked up at Book, studying him carefully, with a bit of her she-wolf protectiveness shooting out at him. "Now that is a thing I don't share out about Mal easily or lightly, preacher, just so you know. And I wouldn't want any of the others getting wind of it. I am the only person who can touch on the subject with him and even I tread very, very cautiously. I'm trusting you, Shepherd, 'cause Mal is trusting you, not to go working at him on the point. I would not take it kindly if you did. It is so very deep and painful to him. It took an enormous lot to make him turn his back on God and it's gonna take a long time--maybe forever--for him to turn back around."

Impulsively, Book reached to give her hand a quick squeeze. "I do understand, Zoe." She measured him again, then nodded. "Go on," Book urged. "What Mal was like to you before. You said he had a lot of faith."

Zoe took a deep breath. "Yeah. He was real religious, but not, you know, tense or uptight about it. Just all natural and at ease. Made it seem like being a believer was just the shiniest thing in the 'verse. And he did it without talkin' on it or even really trying. It just sort of shone out of him." She shifted a touch in her seat and Book heard her jump time tracks, and he had a suspicion to which moment. "I held onto that through a lot of the war--tagging along on his faith when my own weren't strong enough to carry me through."

Something about that struck a chord with Book. He'd come into this believing the primary factor in their continued association was Mal's dependence on Zoe; that he had to let her go--show her he could get along without her to lean on--before she'd be comfortable leaving him. Now, after listening to the recording with Mal talking about how he had rescued her, and her own comment about tagging onto his faith, Book began to suspect that the connection was of a different nature than he'd first thought.

Changing direction, Book said, "It's sort of remarkable, and a little bit unbelievable, that you and Mal could have such a close personal association for so many years and yet never have taken your relationship to another level." Book hoped to draw her out on the subject.

Zoe gave a warm laugh, a touch cynical and a touch amused. "Now, preacher, I know Mal already told you a thing or two. Though he didn't say exactly what. I can surely guess. And I'm fair certain what it was my husband talked on with you. So what say we don't play dainty here and just say it all straight out."

"All right. What is it like for you to share the relationship you currently do with the captain, to live and work in such close proximity, with you married to another man, and you and Mal having had…"

"Sex?" Zoe supplied the bluntness for the preacher. She gave him a teasing grin. "Mal's very particular on that subject." She laughed out loud. "I suppose it's hard for someone like you to look at the leader of a criminal band," she inclined her head to the side, adding proudly, "who just pulled off a big damned robbery, and see any sort of moralizing. But Mal's not like to carry on with a woman lightly. You can bet your bottom dollar that any of the _very rare_ times he and I had a to-do since the war, it was me instigating the party. And you can also bet there was an immoderate amount of drinking involved."

"Hmmm…" Book hid behind a solemnly thoughtful expression for a minute until he could contain his sudden burst of curiosity. "Zoe… pardon me for saying, but you're an exceptionally beautiful woman, and the captain told me that you two had shared very close quarters and… uh,… sleeping arrangements for some years. How…? How did you two not…?"

* * *

**_Mal…_**

"Didn't get her to talk on that, did you?" Mal scrutinized the preacher.

Book shook his head. "No. Can't say I even really tried. Has she ever spoken to you about it?"

"No. Not really." Mal settled back and let out a long breath. "Zoe's… well, she's real good at holdin' it all in, as needs be." He scoffed. "Makes me look like an amateur. And that what happened to her, well, that was right at the early edge of the war and so if she looked to be a stone-cold killer, well, that's what she needed to be. Weren't time nor energy to waste on sentimentality and regrets. Sure, she was different from the gal I'd known as a kid, but we all were. We were fighting and killing and that was just the way of it. Those as couldn't take it cracked. And a lot of 'em did."

Mal took another deep breath and forced himself to look back in time, carefully stepping his ownself aside to look at his recollection of Zoe. "I got a suspicion she was abused again at that prison though I never could find out for sure. The guard I walloped for laying hands on her, what got me tossed in the Hole, well later on she hunted him down in the coldest damned way I've ever seen. And let me tell you, preacher, I have seen _cold_. Took her gorram time about ending him, too. I was getting' tired holding him down, she took so long about it."

Glancing up at the 'urp' sound, Mal chuckled at the Shepherd's horrified expression. "Preacher, you wanted to hear the black, unvarnished truth. Well, there it damned well is." He leaned forward, probing into Book's eyes. "If you don't want to look into the face if it, turn away now."

"No," Book answered him quietly. "I've seen 'cold' too. Go on."

With a shrug, Mal went on, "Only other time I saw her do a fellow that way was in that Alliance complex I got her out of way back--when her daddy got killed and their ship taken." Mal hesitated, then added, "When I gave Wash that disk, that's the part I told him to listen too." He looked up at the preacher. "You think that was a mistake?"

Shaking his head slowly, Book said, "I don't know. It probably wasn't the best way for him to hear it--you were awfully blunt and explicit in what you told Harken…"

"Didn't figure anyone else would be hearing it. And Zoe's heard it too," Mal inserted. "I was worrying on her, listening to that. Said as much to her the other night which is what got her going on this notion of talkin' out the old times. Though probably would have been better she talk out with Wash than me. If he can take it. That I don't know about. Don't help none if they just get to yelling again."

"Yes, I do believe Wash needs to know," Book said, "needs to know not only that, specifically, about his wife and what she's been through, but also about your relationship with her on these matters. He's got a big dose of jealousy in him already. Now he not only has to deal with these sorts of revelations about Zoe, but know that _you_, not he, were the one there to comfort her through those times."

Mal gave a derisive snort. "Weren't so much with the 'comfort', preacher. Cuddlin' Zoe's like cuddling up to a landmine most of the time. We got exactly two times in our history that Zoe and me have done with the comforting. The one we told about a while back--the night they finally let me out of the Hole, and…" He trailed off.

"The other," Book nudged.

No holding back, they'd agreed. Mal sighed shortly. "Just this last week. Down on Beta." Mal scowled at Book. "Now don't go gettin' that cat-caught-in-the-cream look on your face. There weren't no hanky-panky in that hotel, no matter what Wash thinks. It was just the being on that gorram world called up so many bad memories, for the both of us. Kinda took us off guard, I guess. Thought it was all buried long since…" Mal shook himself and grinned at Book. "You must think we're both nuts."

With a chuckle, Book said, "Oh, absolutely, son. And I am utterly convinced that you and Zoe would not betray Wash in a sexual way. But there are aspects to your relationship with Zoe that can still drive a wedge between her and her husband unless we find a way to work them out. Go back to the part about comforting Zoe after the abuse. Comforting isn't just hugging and holding. It takes other forms. How did she behave, after the first time, when you rescued her from the Feds?"

Mal had to think on it a moment, remembering. "Well… I suppose I was just seeing it in odd little tidbits. Probably wouldn't have noticed anything amiss 'cept that I'd known her for a time before. Had a notion of what she was like. Anyhow, uh… well, she was in my platoon, a green private I had to train though she wasn't ever particularly green--she'd done some livin' there on her daddy's ship, a lot like things we run into here on _Serenity_. So I had a head start in training her in the army ways of doin' and fighting.

"So…" Mal scratched idly at his chin as he pondered. "I was shot up pretty bad from the rescue mission, and still not knowing if I was gonna get court-martialed or not over it, both of which had me not so much at my peak. And Zoe just took it on herself to tend to me. Nothing personal or romantic about it, nothing like that. I suspect it was more how she used to look after her daddy after her momma passed on. Thinking on it now, I guess as much as anything, that set the way we've been living since. Though," he suddenly thought to qualify, "that gets to sounding weird when the sleeping together bit comes up later on."

Book chuckled. "I understand how you mean it. Don't fret, just continue."

"Yeah. So I'd be doing things like showing her how to shoot the army rifles properly and I'd come to readjust her grip and she would absolutely freeze solid. Not flinch away, like I've seen some gals--and even fellas--who've been, uh, abused in that way, do. But just freeze up like she couldn't stand to be touched no way, no how, but wasn't gonna give in to being afraid or cringy about it."

"How'd you get her over it?" Book asked.

With a shrug, Mal said, "Did and didn't, all at the same time. Forced her to accept I was gonna be laying hands on her now and again, but made damned sure it was strictly business and only as necessary. Couldn't have a soldier who'd freak out if I suddenly grabbed 'em in a full body tackle." He gave a small laugh. "Happened exactly that way in the first hour of the first full-out battle Zoe was ever in. She never did thank me for it though I like to saved her life. Bruised her butt bad, landing down on her that way." Mal pulled out of the memory and looked up at Book. "Don't know if that's what you mean by 'comfort', but there it is."

"It is," Book said. "You built her trust back up. She trusted you to treat her right."

"Well, yeah. She trusts me in a lot of ways. And I trust her. Absolutely," Mal said. "She got easier and more relaxed, then, after a time, but was still the coldest, deadliest creature you'd ever care to see in combat. Sneaking about silently and ambush were her best things more'n a straight-up firefight. I tell you, it was a thing of beauty to see her move like a shadow and take down half a dozen of the enemy without even a whisper of noise. Wasn't my style, but surely was a comfort knowing she was at my back." Mal grinned at the recollection until it occurred to him that the preacher probably had the creepified expression back. Mal glanced up. Nope. Book was off in a thoughtful pondery place.

"How about after the other time you suspect," Book asked thoughtfully, "in the prison?"

Mal shook his head and shrugged. "Hard to say. That weren't a natural sort of place to be, what with the watching and the constant tension, and such. She was just sort of locked down cold inside herself, holding on tight. It hard for me to see what was going on with her on account of me being so…" He trailed off.

"Mmmm…" Book made an understanding sound. "You were off in your own dark place," he said very quietly. "After you were released…?"

Taking his time to phrase his thoughts, Mal had to force himself to continue on. It was easier talking about Zoe than himself. "We lived. Survived and nothing more. And that's the way of it. We had nowhere to go--no kith nor kin left to either of us. Alliance harassing us constantly, wherever we went. No way to live on the right side of their laws. And no wanting to, either."

"And you only had each other," Book said softly.

"Too right." Mal nodded. "Had the habit of living together long since without, you know, any man/womanness getting in the mix. Once you've set a way of being together, breaking out of it is damned near impossible. And we never tried. We'd destroyed any chance of being a romantic-type couple long, long before and now had an old, established way of being together that worked, for the most part."

Mal hesitated, then plunged on, "She had some nightmares--hell, we both did. We were both walking textbook cases of delayed stress syndrome--" Seeing the preacher's expression, Mal added, "Yes, I do know more than a fair bit about such things. Like I said, I've seen more'n a few crack in combat. And I've seen more than a few since with the classic symptoms. But it's always easier to see at a distance, or in someone else, than in your ownself." He took a breath. "Anyhow, not all Zoe's nightmares seemed to be about the war. A couple times she woke up screaming and she'd want me near her. If we weren't sharing a bed at the time she'd come to mine and climb on in. Not touching. Absolutely no touching at those times. But near. She'd never say a word. Wouldn't. Just laid there, facing away from me. And that would be that. And then she, uh…" He stopped. "Gorramit, preacher, I really feel like I'm tellin' tales out of school here, violating her trust."

"You're not," Book said. "That's the point. You both agreed. You trust each other to do as needful each for the other. So do it."

"Okay. Whewwww…. Damn. I'd rather tackle an entire Alliance brigade charging at me. But, okay, if it helps Zoe out…" With another deep, fortifying breath, Mal went on. "She kinda, uh, went through a, um… I guess you'd have to say 'promiscuous' phase. Now I know she had--has--a lively attitude toward sex, but this was different. It wasn't 'love-making', like with Wash. It was… it was kinda nasty, truth to tell. Like she was proving a point. Or using them fellas. That was a rough time for both of us. She got over that, though."

"Yes." Book regarded "The things you described are ways a woman who has been raped could behave. As you clearly are aware. You did well by her," he said seriously.

"Well, hell… that vice is plenty versa," Mal said. "Hurts like hell I couldn't make it better for her. Couldn't stop it in the first place. She's strong and she's proud, and near 'bout as fine a female as ever walked the 'verse. She hadn't ought to have something like that--something that makes her feel weak when she ain't, when she never was, gnawing at her. Ain't right.

"And," Mal added, leaning forward toward the Shepherd, "it sure as hell weren't right those times I took advantage of her back then."

"That gnaws at you?"

"Damned straight," Mal said. "That was all kinds of wrong there was."

"Even though you didn't take advantage? Though it was Zoe who always instigated it?" Book asked abruptly.

Mal blinked. "She said that?" He sighed. "Yes. Even though."

"Don't feel guilty about it," Book said. "You did the best you could."

"Yeah," Mal said slowly. "That ain't always enough, is it?"

Before the preacher could get in another word, Mal stood up and quickly left.

* * *

Shepherd Book sought out a quiet place where he could be alone and contemplate the Black--the other shuttle. _Serenity_ plunged far out and alone in space. Hmmm… they'd rotated the ship over so they looked downward at the spiraling arms of the galaxy. They must be high up over the galactic ecliptic to have a view such as this. He wondered who had done it--Wash or the captain? They usually all ignored the splendors of the 'verse that surrounded them while they traveled between worlds. Someone feeling a need to take in the glories of Creation? 

Settling himself in the shuttle's co-pilot seat, Book tugged at his moustache and contemplated all he'd heard and learned. He had no delusions about just how hard it was for Mal and Zoe to open up to him that way. Nor was it lost on him how much they still withheld. Each had only managed to speak with concern about the other, not about themselves. There was an utter selflessness about their relationship that he'd never even dreamed of.

He'd come into this believing that Mal needed to break his dependence on Zoe, to set her free to be with her husband unencumbered by past loyalties and obligations. Separate. Go their separate ways. Now, though… Now…

No. Forcing them to split up? That would be all kinds of wrong.


	31. Chapter 31: The Heart of the Matter

**Blue Sun Job: **_The Heart of the Matter _  
靑日 Job: _The Heart of the Matter_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions 

他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap

**

* * *

Chapter 31 **

Mal took the stairs two at a time. There weren't enough stairs. And not enough ship. No place to run. No place to hide. Wouldn't matter no how--wasn't the here and now he wanted to run from.

Stopping on the landing, Mal sank back against the wall and concentrated on breathing. One breath after another. Keep going one minute to the next. 他妈的. This talking on the bad times was supposed to make 'em all shiny again? Well, _when_? 'Cause it sure weren't happening now. Another breath. Get a gorram grip, Reynolds. It's just words. Past. Nothing. Don't mean nothing. He took the rest of the stairway at a slow trudge. Was this accomplishing anything except to give the preacher nightmares too?

Wash sat alone on the bridge, not doing anything, sunk down in the pilot's seat staring out at the stars. He didn't look up as Mal entered. Quite an array of stars it was. They were near the galaxy's edge--the place of nothing--but were aimed to look at a fine display of stars. Mal frowned at it. He preferred the Black.

"You turn us over this way?" he asked Wash.

"Yeah," Wash answered shortly, still not looking up at Mal.

"Feeling a need for a good view?" Mal persisted.

At that Wash did look up at him. The man wore an expression as distant as the stars themselves. Hell, he wasn't ignoring the captain just because he was pissed at him. He was lost in his own gorram woods.

"No," Wash said distractedly, turning away. He jabbed aimlessly at a few controls. "Just making damned sure no one's on our tail. Might make a habit of that from now on. Change the ship's attitude now and again. Doesn't take but a twitch of the maneuvering thrusters. Maybe call it a 'Crazy Wash'."

"Fits," Mal commented dryly. Wash hadn't even tried to punch the joke. 他妈的 hell… Mal stepped up closer, to the center of the bridge. He leaned against the stair railings, peering upward out the windows. "Listen," he said, the words trailing off before he could even really form them. It was harder to say than he'd thought it would be. Mal took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the baby."

Mal felt Wash jerk, startled, to stare at him.

"It… um…," Wash stuttered, "it wasn't really a… it was just, uh… You know, not really a ba--"

"Yes. It was," Mal said sharply, staring hard at Wash. "It was and you don't gotta go pretending you think otherwise."

Wash's shock at Mal's words--and at his attitude, Mal knew--smacked back like a recoil. "You…? Um…" Wash stopped and shook himself. He swallowed hard and blinked rapidly. Mal fought the need to look away. "Zoe doesn't… She doesn't think it was anything at all." Wash gulped. "Just what Simon kept saying… just a bunch of cells. Not meant to be…" He turned away from Mal, looking away out the windows.

Mal closed his eyes for a split. Leave it be. Walk away. Easiest all the way around just to avoid the whole damned mess. But Book's words and ways nagged at him. He needs to know.

"Wash," Mal said very slowly, very carefully, "Zoe may say that, but she don't believe it. She's lying to you, and she's lying to herself." He pushed on the back of the pilot's chair, spinning it around so Wash faced him. Mal held Wash's eyes. Straightening, Mal fixed a fierce look on Wash. "Don't let her get away with it. Don't let her bury it like it never happened. Like it never meant…" He blinked hard himself, "…like it never meant a thing."

Abruptly, Mal strode away, off the bridge.

Wash's voice caught him at the doorway. "Captain?"

Mal stopped and glanced around. A dozen questions played over Wash's face. He opened his mouth to ask and Mal didn't know how he'd answer any of them.

"Uh… thanks," Wash said shortly, twisting his seat back around to stare again at the cool, distant stars.

Mal stared at his pilot's back for a moment. A strange kinship. So strange…

As Mal walked quietly down the corridor toward the dining area, he realized he hadn't heard Wash joke or laugh in some time. Strange kinship, indeed.

A little twitch of a smile touched the corner of Mal's mouth as he came to the dining room and saw Kaylee at work behind the kitchen counter. At least his living ray of sunshine would brighten the bleak gloom that had settled over the ship. Then he heard the suppressed sob and Mal groaned out loud.

Kaylee glanced over at him, quickly wiping her eyes and pasting on a badly faked smile.

"Hey, cap'n," she called, trying to sound cheerful, but her voice cracked a mite as she did.

Crap, Mal thought, heaving an inward sigh. Not so much what he wanted to be dealing with right at this very time.

Cussing fervently to himself, he didn't break stride but went right over to her and wrapped his arms around her. As he expected, Kaylee melted against him, breaking into heart-wrenching sobs. Just 他妈的 great.

"Mei-mei," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Tell me these waterworks ain't on account of those Feds."

She didn't make whole words, only disjointed sounds, but Mal felt her nodding. "I killed 'em," she finally managed to get out between sobs.

Gorram 他妈的 hell. "Kaylee," Mal said insistently, trying to get her to look up, but she kept her face buried tightly against his chest. "As I hear it you weren't alone in the doing of it. The others had a hand. No need for you to be all guilty over it." Another innocence shattered.

Sniffling loudly, Kaylee said, "I set that shuttle to blow. It's on account of me they're dead."

"Okay," Mal said, firmly shoving her out to arms' length. "So you killed 'em. You made the decision that's what needed doin' and you did it." Kaylee looked puppy-eyed at him, startled at his bluntness. "You come up with any different options on the situation? Huh? You've obviously been workin' at it. You work out any different ways that scenario could have played out that would ease your conscience?"

Sniffle. "No," she said in a small voice. "I mean… maybe. We could have, you know, taken them on _Serenity_ and tied them up and…"

"And what?" Mal asked harshly. "Killed them later? You'd'a rather I did it? Or Zoe? Or Jayne? 'Cause we woulda. Would have had to. You know that. Weren't no way we could let them live." Mal dropped his grip on her arms and leaned on the counter with a sigh. "Damn it…" He turned to face her, studying her sternly. "Kaylee. You know the way of it. You know what we face out here and how we live. These ain't secrets to you. Can you live with it? Or do you want me to take you back home?"

"Cap'n! No," she squeaked. "This is my home. _Serenity's_ my home." She crumpled in a bit on herself and Mal had his own battle not to just hug the girl close and tell her it was all alright. Lie to her. No. She had to come to her own terms with it. All the memories brought up to the surface swept Mal back in time and he saw the parade of young faces and the looks in their eyes the first time they had to kill. All the training in the 'verse couldn't change the impact of that moment. By and by they grew numb to it. Somewhere, somewhen, he'd become numb to it, too, callous, indifferent. Didn't mean a thing. But Kaylee… Kaylee _felt_ with a deep, raw intensity.

Mal eased his stern stance. This girl wasn't a soldier. Hardening her wasn't really what he wanted for her. Not for her, and--selfishly--not for him. "Come here, mei-mei," he said gently, holding out his hand. Leading Kaylee over to the lounge area, he sat down in one of the cushy chairs, pulling her down next to him. "I wish you didn't have to deal with this. You're a brave girl, and a strong as any I've ever seen, but you're no killer and I regret like hell that you had to be, especially on my account. Weren't a thing I ever wanted you to have to deal with."

Nestling in close, Kaylee whispered into his neck. "I ain't brave. Don't see you or Zoe going all to pieces like this."

With a chuckle, Mal squeezed her. If only you knew. We each got our own ways about it. "It's got nothin' to do with 'brave', Kaylee. You think it didn't affect me, first time I killed someone? Think it didn't trouble me?" Kaylee didn't answer but twisted her neck to peer at him, puzzled. "I'll tell you, sweetie… I didn't hesitate, no more'n you did, 'cause it needed doin'. And I didn't regret it. And I don't regret it. But I saw that fellow's face in my head every waking and sleeping moment for some time to come. I still can if I go lookin'. And it ain't 'cause I felt I'd done a wrong in taking him out--I'd already seen that particular one kill my neighbor and my own bestest friend. Even still I felt guilty about ending him."

Kaylee scowled up at him, suddenly concern for him dripping out of those melty eyes of hers instead of tears. Mal gave her an extra little hug. "You ain't never said nothing like that before, cap'n. That happen back on your home world?"

"That it did, mei-mei. Alliance landed a force meaning to put us down. Didn't work out that way for 'em. At least not that time," Mal said. He looked down at her seriously. "There's a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. And that's the way the 'verse is, only it's long on the killing and weeping and mourning and short on the shiny things. But you're one of the shiny things and I want you to keep to those. Understand? Don't let yourself get mired in the muck."

Regarding him a long time, Kaylee seemed to be considering what he'd said. At least she'd stopped crying. Finally, she asked, "Did you just quote the Bible at me, cap'n?"

Mal thought for a second, then wryly said, "It 'pears I did at that."

"Do you think that's like to happen again?" she asked.

Shaking his head, Mal repressed a chuckle as he said, "I shouldn't think so."

"Mmmm…." Kaylee's eyes played over him, her curiosity probing into him. Mal couldn't help but give a small smile. "It's kinda unsettling, you doin' that," she said.

Holding his expression bland, Mal said, "Have to agree with you there."

She nodded, still studying him. "Okay, then. So, how old were you?"

Mal shrugged. "Eighteen, I guess."

"Younger'n me," Kaylee said softly. She looked down and away and the tears started leaking again, silently this time. Oh, gorrammit.

"Hey, lil' Kaylee…" Mal tilted her chin up. "What is it now?"

She sniffled long and loud. Burying her face back against his chest, he felt her tears soaking into his shirt. In a tiny voice Kaylee said, "Ain't just that I killed 'em, cap'n." She sniffed. "It's that I wanted to."

Mal held her, frozen and silent, as Kaylee's tears dripped onto him. He was saved from thinking of something to say--there was nothing coming--by Jayne tromping down into the dining room, sniffing the air like a hound on the trail.

"Supper 'bout ready?" Jayne called, casting about. He stopped when he spotted Mal and Kaylee. "Thought Kaylee was cookin'."

"She was," Mal said, giving Jayne a firm watch-what-you-say look. "Finish up for her, Jayne. Stuffs all laid out."

Jayne stared a moment, as if pondering his inevitable protest. Mal knew a crying Kaylee was a powerful thing, even to an insensitive galoot like Jayne. Maybe especially so.

"Ain't much here," Jayne said, examining the half-prepared meal. "Emergency protein rations." He held a package up toward Mal. "Yuck."

"Just fix what there is," Mal ordered impatiently. "We'll be landing in a few hours and can resupply."

With a predictable string of low grumbly complaints, Jayne set about ripping open packets and dumping them into the pots Kaylee had started. Hard to say, Mal thought, if he was putting the stuff in the kettles Kaylee had intended or not, but figured it didn't much matter. It wasn't set to be no gourmet meal anyhow.

"What's Kaylee all in a fluster about?" Jayne called. "Tell me she ain't still upset about blowin' up them dumbass Feds."

"Jayne." Mal shot a warning glare at him but Jayne the philosopher-shrink appeared to be back on duty. Kaylee burrowed in tighter against Mal and he felt the hot tears renew. 他妈的.

"Hell, Kaylee," Jayne went on without a break. "Them bastards didn't feel a thing. There's lots worse ways to go." He noticed Mal's black glare and blushed slightly. "If I'd'a known it was gonna bug you so gorram much, I'd'a popped 'em myself afore we closed up that shuttle," Jayne added.

Sure as hell wish you had, Mal thought. Simon came into the dining room on the tail end of that comment, leading River. He took in the scene at a glance, exchanging a quick look with Mal. Apparently he got the 'shut-up' message Mal shot at him because, for once, he had the sense to not blurt out some excessively intrusive question. Instead he quietly seated River and himself at the table. Inara entered from the other direction, also keeping her peace after meeting Mal's eyes for a split. Book, Zoe, and Wash filled out the table, all staring over at Mal and Kaylee. Zoe's look at Mal was long and consisted of an entire conversation between them. Mal saw her well-concealed twitch of memory that matched his own before she looked away. Mal noticed Book's quick back-and-forth glance between Zoe and Mal. Was the preacher learning to read their no-talking talks? Book settled his expression into a solemnly thoughtful one and said nothing.

"It's about supper time, Kaylee," Mal whispered to her, stroking her hair. "Come on. Get yourself together."

Kaylee shifted against him, pushing herself upright, swiping at her eyes. "Sorry, cap'n," she murmured.

"Nothin' to be sorry about," Mal told her evenly. "Just come on and eat."

When they were all seated, Jayne inelegantly plopped the pots from the stove down onto the table, dropping a couple ladles down beside them. Mal could just picture Momma Cobb serving up her vittles with as much propriety. Plates were filled with the unappetizing glop, handed around the table until everyone had a serving.

Shepherd Book bent his head for his inevitable, though silent, saying of grace. For the first time, Mal waited until he'd finished before settling in to eat. No one else noticed save Zoe, who gave him a studied examination.

He picked up his spoon and poised it over the plate. The grey mess on Mal's dish bore an unpleasant resemblance to the 狗屎 the Alliance fed prisoners. The sight called to mind too many things… Images… In the brig of Harken's cruiser, he'd seen it crawling with… Oozing with… Mal shook himself and set the spoon down abruptly. Why would this…? He hadn't even been thinkin' on it. It was just a 他妈的 plate of food. That's all. Why…? He knew a damned flashback when he felt one. It wasn't in the seeing. It was in the feeling. The sensations. Helpless. Despair. Trapped. Out of the blue. No warning. Why would this…? Just a plate… Mal snatched up his cup and took a gulp. Weak tea. Yuck. Used both hands to steady the trembling.

"Captain?" Book's voice came as a low murmur beside him. The tone, low and calm, steadied him. Mal took another gulp and glanced up. No one else was looking, each absorbed in their ownselves and their own worries. Kaylee stirred her food aimlessly, not eating. River built a little landscape out of the grey lumps, humming as she did. Wash's eyes remained fixed on Zoe, eating methodically without paying any attention. Zoe ate with a cool eat-to-survive-and-never-mind-what-it-is air about her. Simon nibbled, seasoning and reseasoning the mess between each reluctant bite.

"This ain't half bad," Jayne announced, ladling another dishful out of the pot with a loud scraping to get every bit.

Mal let out a slow breath. He flicked a brief glance at the Shepherd, then picked up his spoon again.

"So, what's wrong, Kaylee?"

Mal fixed a deadly glare on Simon. Well, give the boy credit, he'd held back on the intrusive questions for a couple whole minutes. Kaylee sniffled. Mal moaned. Zoe shifted her chair with a slight scraping that she somehow managed to make sound threatening. Wash's eyes darted around, baffled, like he'd been woken from a dream and didn't know where he was. Inara sighed softly. And River giggled as her protein mountain collapsed under its own weight wiping out the valley she'd constructed.

"Ah, hell…" Jayne started and Mal tensed.

"So did they court-martial you, captain?" Book cut in abruptly.

The 'verse jumped tracks. Mal blinked. Everyone else turned to stare.

"What?"

Book gave a casual--extremely casual, as if nothing was off kilter here--shrug. "I was just wondering about the rest of the tale. You never said if the Independents court-martialed you or not. Did they?"

Mal stared at Book. Everyone else stared at Mal.

"Uh… no," he said, still staring at Book. What was the man playing at? He'd sworn he'd keep their confidences. "They, uh… We, uh…" he took a breath, "…started a new offensive 'bout then. It all got dropped."

"Hmmm…" Book looked back down at his plate. Every other eye at the table was still locked on Mal.

"Why for were they gonna court-martial you?"/"What were they going to court-martial you for?" Jayne and Simon in unison. Mal flicked back and forth between them. That was its own kind of scary.

Zoe looked at Mal, her face blankly controlled but her eyes richly expressive.

Mal took a gulp of the crappy--now cold--tea. "Disobeying orders," he said shortly.

"You!" When did Jayne and Simon start operating off the same page of dialog? Stop it, Mal wanted to shout at them. It's creepy.

"Just that once," Mal muttered in a surly 'drop it' tone.

Zoe's derisive snort punctuated the moment. Mal glared at her.

"Yes, sir," Zoe said complacently, looking back down obediently, then she chuckled. "'Just that once'," she echoed. No mistaking the ironical tone. Mal scowled. "The brass flat-ass ordered him 'no', but Mal went on in anyhow, never minding the orders or what they'd do to him later." Her look became distant. "He got three whole platoons shot up bad, a landing craft destroyed, and damned near got killed his ownself."

Mal held his breath.

"What'd he do that for?" It was Kaylee's voice ringing in.

Zoe smiled serenely at her. "To save me."

A wordless murmur rippled around the table. Inara gently urged Zoe to go on with the tale.

Mal sank back in his chair and gave Book a long, dark look. "Just trust me, son," Book murmured so low no one else heard. "Let her talk."

Shoving his untouched plate away from him--Jayne noticed and reached over to snag it--Mal listened to Zoe tell the story. Wash sat rigidly beside her, staring at her, his face pale, eyes wide. He knew the dark side of this story now, from Mal's words to Harken. He'd never heard Zoe tell it before. And what she told differed radically from what Mal had, not in the basic facts, but in the way the story was told. Zoe spoke with the same pleasant, melodious way she always did with the war stories, as if they were light, happy tales, no matter how grim the subject. Walls of bodies, rib cages, stolen moustaches… all the same. Mal had never really noticed before _how_ she told these tales. Huh.

"That first one you killed there, on your daddy's ship," Kaylee said in a low voice, "Did you… did you regret it?"

Zoe gave the girl a gentle smile. "Only that he died fast," she said. Her smiled broadened a touch. "The next one I got to take a little time with."

"Hmmph." Mal made the sound before he could stop himself. Everyone turned toward him. "Uh…" he stumbled, "her little project like to got me killed is all." He looked down uncomfortably.

With a smile, Zoe said, "Sarge let himself get distracted there for a moment. Let one of the Feds put a bullet in him…" She went on with a censored version of how Mal found her in the complex and how they fought their way out.

A silence settled over the table.

"Why'd the Feds have you separated from the others in that rec room?" Simon asked, as ever, without thinking first. Mal could see him fill in the answer for himself even before he finished the question. "Oh." He stopped abruptly, blushing and looking down.

Zoe's calm smile remained frozen in place. "Yes," she said smoothly. "They were having their way with me. Happened to more'n a few of the women who were captured. Then and… later."

Mal forgot to breathe. Wash looked like he'd forgotten how, too. Inara wore a shocked expression. Mal understood it. Jayne looked like he'd like to go back in time and gut a few of the bastards himself. Mal understood that, too. River… River was elsewhere, though Mal had a hunch the girl was listening and understanding more than it appeared. Only Zoe remained the picture of unruffled serenity.

"They raped you?" Kaylee's voice was faint.

"Yes, they did, Kaylee," Zoe said steadily.

"But you're so… strong. Tough." Another tear rolled down Kaylee's cheek. "That bounty hunter threatened to do that to me, 'cause I was so weak," she whispered. Mal looked at her, startled. He hadn't known that. He should have known that. A glance at Simon told him that the doctor did know, and that others at the table suspected. "I was so scared. I felt so helpless." She looked up at Zoe. Her voice firmed up. "I wanted to kill those Feds on that shuttle. I wanted to. 'Cause I wanted to do that to him and I couldn't."

Book's hand on Mal's arm stopped him from moving or speaking. From the corner of his eye, Mal saw the preacher give him a slight shake of his head.

Zoe reached across the table to take Kaylee's hand. "It doesn't make it go away. The vengeance, the revenge. 'Cause taking their lives doesn't put back what got took. There's always stronger. There's always gonna be stronger. You be strong in yourself and it don't matter--to you, the _real you_--what someone else does to you," Zoe said softly to Kaylee as though they were the only two people present. "Time. People you trust," she flicked a brief glance at Mal. Wash saw it. "People who understand."

Kaylee sniffled deeply. "He didn't even really rape me… I mean, it ain't like I'm no untried virgin or nothing. Shouldn't be so…"

"It's not about sex, Kaylee," Zoe said, the words coming out of her fast, like she hadn't really thought them before but they were sudden truths just tumbling out of her. "It never is. Never was." She fell silent, turned inward.

"Kaylee, mei-mei," Inara's soft voice flowed out of the silence. "What I do isn't about sex, either, at least not for the Companion…"

"Well, that's purely disappointing as hell to hear," Jayne muttered.

No, it's not, Mal thought.

Inara scowled at Jayne. Mal guessed she'd have smacked him again if she were closer. Curious relationship those two were forming. A whore and a mercenary… well, they did have that in common.

"It's about perceptions, perceptions of self, yours and theirs," Inara went on to Kaylee. "And letting those perceptions be created in a way that doesn't cause you to lose the power that is yourself regardless of what's happening to your body." Weird that Inara would be thinking 'bout her job when the gals at the table were talking about rape, Mal thought. Is that what her work she did meant to her? Controlled, paid for, abuse? And she got nothing from it but being demeaned for money? It was an ugly thought. Went way the hell beyond his notion of whoring.

Zoe's smile had faded away. "It's about destroying that power in you. It's about helplessness. About taking away all your power and control over your very own self, hurting you and making you helpless." She turned and gave Mal a long, studied look that he didn't understand. "What they did to Mal there, at that prison, was the same," Zoe said, her voice still quiet and low. Mal remained so fixed on her, he scarcely noticed the others turn toward him. "Locking him up there in the dark for so long, helpless and hurting. Trying to drive him mad, take away himself. It's the same."

_People who understand…_ Huh, Mal thought.

* * *

Mal slipped away from the table the instant no one was looking directly at him. Zoe, Inara, and Kaylee had continued talking--Zoe in cold pragmatics, Inara in vague off-in-the-ether philosophies, but Kaylee in an ever more perky, engaged way. It heartened Mal. That lil' gal just needed to talk it out with some womenfolk that understood. The sunshine was still there, just needed the clouds pushed back away. She'd be changed by it all, no denying, but she'd still be Kaylee… the _real_ Kaylee. 

There was one for the preacher's scorecard, Mal thought as he walked down the catwalk in the cargo bay. And, just maybe, one for getting Zoe to finally talk on what happened to her so long ago. Would helping Kaylee out help out Zoe too? It was good notion, Mal decided. Book had got 'em talking on it so easy, with one simple question. No deep 'now let's have a big serious confession session', just kinda natural. Not too shabby.

In Inara's shuttle, Mal snatched up the pill bottle he'd left there the night before. He wasn't set on taking any more, but lacking any decent liquor--and not like to find any at a religious Sanctuary--he thought it might be a good idea to have them on hand in case any more dinner plates got to acting spooky on him. Then there was the whole issue of sleeping, too. He gazed thoughtfully at her bed before turning away.

Slowly coming down the stairs into the cargo bay, Mal heard the clanking of Jayne's weights.

"I escaped right after you," Jayne said when he spotted Mal approaching. "All that talk of guttin' fellers for wrong touching ain't good for a man's digestion."

Mal chuckled. Sometimes a bit of Jayne-wisdom weren't a half bad thing. Weren't half good neither, but at least it was forthright and crude and that was something.

"I hear that," Mal said, then decided to tweak Jayne a bit more. "And 'gut', well now, that there's the dainty way to describe what Zoe really did to them fellas."

"Ewww…" Jayne cringed. Then he snorted, giving Mal a knowing up/down look. "Explains why you weren't never keen to carry on with Zoe. Seeing a thing like that's gotta make a man a mite standoffish. That little man she married's braver than I thought." He snorted again. "Maybe braver than he thought."

Jayne eased back and hoisted his weights up and held them. He wore a serious, pondery face. "Don't rightly understand why any man would do a thing like that to a gal, not when there's willing women all about, free or pay."

Though he already knew Jayne wasn't the sort to do such a thing to a woman, it was comforting to hear it said. For all the ways he didn't trust Jayne, there were ways he did, or he wouldn't have him on his boat no way, no how.

"It's like they said, Jayne. Ain't about sex," Mal said.

"It's what Zoe said about power and helplessness." Book's voice came from above. Mal glanced up at Shepherd Book coming down the stairs.

"They still talking?" Mal asked.

"Yes," Book answered, joining them by Jayne's weight bench.

Jayne grunted as he pressed the weights. "Just the girls left up there, huh?"

"Well," Book said judiciously, "Wash feels obliged to stay on account of Zoe. And I think it's important he does. And Simon…"

"Is one'a the girls," Jayne put in quickly, snorting at his own joke. Mal, and even Book, had a brief struggle not to laugh. Mal lost the struggle.

"River won't leave and I suspect Simon's finding the discussion useful in understanding her," Book said. He moved to sit down on the steps.

Jayne's weights landed with a loud clank. He sat up suddenly. "You saying that little girl was molested too, preacher?" Jayne demanded. Mal stared at him in surprise. Jayne defensive of River?

Book shook his head. "Not sexually, no. But you're aware of what was done to her--the invasions and violations to her body, her mind, her spirit. There are corollaries."

Jayne stared blankly. "Cora-who?"

"Similarities," Book amended. He glanced at Mal. "It's like the point Zoe made about what was done to you. Designed to manipulate the mind and break the spirit."

"So we're all freakin' moonpies on this boat," Mal muttered, wearily rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Gorramit. That's what I've been sayin' all along," Jayne said. "Why don't nobody ever listen to me?" He waggled a finger at Mal. "You just gotta keep that crazy focused on thievin'. Understand? Big, crazy scores. Then everything'll be just fine."

Mal scowled at Jayne but grinned at the preacher. "That your assessment too, Shepherd?" he asked teasingly. "Thou shalt not steal, right? But it was the smuggling we got caught for, not the thievin'. Don't recollect a 'thou shalt not evade tariffs and port inspections,' huh? Illegal ain't necessarily sinful, that so, preacher? Smuggling goods to folks what need 'em probably not even a sin in your book."

"Well…" Book said slowly with a twinkle in his eye Mal couldn't quite interpret. "I do have some notions on that subject. Some as may surprise you, I suspect. We'll talk about them after we land."

Footsteps on the stairs distracted Mal from probing into these notions of the preacher's. They looked up to see Wash descending the stairs. His hair stood up every which way, as if he'd been raking his fingers through it repeatedly. Wash gave the men watching him an eye-rolling, totally overwhelmed sigh.

"They finally cracked you, huh?" Jayne asked, grinning.

"Zoe made me leave," Wash said. "They started to get technical into things a man hadn't ought to hear."

Jayne stared upwards, obviously intrigued. "Really?"

Settling down beside Book, Wash gave a full-body shudder. "That was kinda a lot to absorb all at once," he said. He glanced at Mal, giving him a studied look. "How come Zoe never told me all that before?"

Mal shifted uncomfortably. "It's what was. You're what is," he said tersely.

"Why didn't you…?"

"Not my place," Mal cut him off bluntly. Mal turned away, moving to the other stairs, to sit opposite Wash and Book. "Hell… been with her half my life. Learned a thing or two tonight myself," Mal said with a sigh.

"Females is complicated critters," Jayne inserted, sounding as though he was making a profound, and newly discovered, proclamation. All the men murmured agreement.

"That may be the most intelligent thing you've ever said, Jayne," Simon's voice cut the moment of silence. They all looked over at Simon as he strode into the cargo bay from the direction of the infirmary. Simon rubbed his temples as though in pain.

"Well, hell, doc. You're leaving that coffee klatsch up there one short," Jayne said with a grin.

"I was reluctant to leave River," Simon said, giving Jayne a quick dirty look, "with such a, uh… graphic conversation going on, even though technically I suppose she is an adult…" Simon sighed heavily. He came to sit on the steps by Mal. "I'm a doctor," he announced. "They made me blush."

All the men chuckled.

"Well, men and women can't always be completely themselves in the company of the opposite sex," Book said.

"That why you ain't got no women in your order there, Shepherd?" Jayne asked.

"One of the reasons," Book said.

"Suppose that's really what Inara thinks of her work?" Mal asked low, in the preacher's general direction.

"Disappointing as hell," Jayne muttered.

"Not as 'rape', certainly," Book said, clearly measuring his words carefully. Mal studied him. He knew the Shepherd and the Companion spent some time talking, but he didn't know about what. Society learning and such, he'd always figured. "I don't think that was Inara's point. I think she meant more that the, uh, _service_ she performs for her clients, while sexual in nature, is not… ahem…" Mal's lips twitched with amusement as Book paused for a badly faked cough. "…not sexually meaningful for her. It's a service that doesn't touch at the core of her own being, or her own needs and desires."

"Surely, Jayne," Simon started and Mal couldn't help thinking the boy was always determined to step right into it, pretty shoes or not, "you can't believe that the plethora of whores you engage are actually so overwhelmed by your prowess that they, themselves, achieve satisfaction?"

Jayne glared at him. "Damned straight, I do. And they do," he added with a brook-no-argument nod.

"Ah, delusions are such useful things," Wash injected with a grin and a laugh. Jayne scowled. Mal stared at Wash. It was surprisingly good to hear Wash's old humor. Damned shame there was still one more big whammy waiting to hit the man.

"Preacher," Mal said abruptly, standing up, "Got something I need to talk over with you." He jerked his head toward the second shuttle. "Can you spare a minute?"

"Certainly," Book said, following him up the stairs. Mal didn't glance back to see if curious looks followed them.

Closing the airlock doors of the shuttle firmly behind him, Mal gave the comms a quick scan to make sure they were off. Book stood near the co-pilot's seat, waiting for him to settle in and say his piece. Another war story? Another tale of death, despair, and survival? Mal leaned back against door, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He had to just say it. Blurt it out before he lost his gumption.

"Zoe had a child before," Mal said quickly. "Years back. Didn't survive."

"Oh, dear Lord," Book whispered, collapsing in the seat. He stared at Mal with hollow shock. Mal swallowed hard before adding…

"Mine."


	32. Chapter 32: Revelations

**Blue Sun Job:** _Revelations _  
靑日 Job: _Revelations_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 32 **

"_Mine."_

Shepherd Book stared open-mouthed at Mal. "I think I need to sit down."

"You are sitting," Mal said. Well, if he'd ever hoped to confound the preacher, he'd sure as hell just accomplished it.

"Well, that's good then," Book said vaguely. "I think you need to sit down, too."

Pushing himself away from the door, Mal crossed the shuttle to the pilot's seat. He felt a mite unsteady himself. The preacher's eyes tracked him unblinkingly. Settling into the seat, Mal had to break away from the preacher's gaze. Man looked to be in shock.

Mal fidgeted with the armrest. Flicked a couple controls. Looked out at the stars. He cast a sideways glance at Book. Still staring wide-eyed in shock.

Chuckling humorlessly, Mal said, "Yup. That's 'bout how I looked when I got the news dropped on me."

Book shook himself top to bottom and rubbed his hands over his face as if he could change the way the way the 'verse shaped up if he could just get it back into proper focus. "Jesus God Almighty," Book whispered.

"Treading a little close to blasphemy there, preacher," Mal said quietly. "Regretting takin' on this job of getting us fixed up?" Mal asked in a nudging, but not nasty, way. He smiled blandly. "You thought we were just ordinary shell-shock screwed up. Didn't you?"

With a not-quite laugh, Book shook his head. "Son, you have managed to astonish me before. And more than once. But this..." He paused, seeming at a loss for words again. "When…? How…?"

Mal scoffed and looked back out into the Black. "Well, the 'when' is nigh onto sixteen years gone by now." He didn't stop a short sigh. He could count it down to the hour with no more than a moment's thought. "The 'how' is… well, just what you'd 'spect--a couple dumb kids with no notion in their heads that the fun and games could turn awfully damned serious and consequential in the space of a heartbeat."

Rubbing his eyes again, Book said with a strained attempt at humor, "I guess I don't need to ask if Wash knows. I mean, you are still alive." Book gave a pained smile. Mal matched it. "But who else does?"

Mal shook his head. "Until last night me and Zoe were the only two living souls in the 'verse who knew. And we've not spoken on it, not really, for… well, nigh onto sixteen years."

"_Suppose those two dumb, innocent kids are still in us somewhere?" _

_Zoe laughed. "We were certainly dumb. Don't know how innocent." _

"_And did we ever pay a price for it," he said with a sigh. Zoe's face clouded. "Hey," Mal said, shaking her arm to break her away from the sad reverie. They had more than enough grief in their lives without courting more. Best not to dwell on sorrows over long past._

Mal shook himself. All these years. Stray comments but no direct words between them, not since he'd told her in an Independent's base hospital "All's forgiven and forgotten. Let the dead bury themselves and move on." He'd believed that then. Believed a lot of things that turned out not to be so. No matter what you did or how far you ran, your history always came along for the ride. Zoe'd been going on about avoidance and denial last night. Had she been trying to work herself up to talking on this? Maybe. If she couldn't make herself talk on it with Mal, weren't no way in hell she'd manage it with Wash. All was forgiven between Mal and Zoe, certainly, but forgotten…? _Never leave,_ the phrase ran unbidden through his mind.

"And last night? Surely not Wash…"

"No. Simon. Doctors can tell if a woman has… you know," Mal trailed off. Hell, he couldn't even say it straight out his ownself. No wonder Zoe couldn't either. "Asked me outright about it."

Book scowled. "But Simon doesn't know the details. I mean, that you…"

"Don't think so," Mal said. He rolled his eyes. "He did get quite the eye and ear-full last night, though. Wouldn't doubt his imagination is working overtime on it."

"Well, he won't say anything," Book said. "I mean, he's a doctor and understands confidentiality." He studied Mal closely. "Why'd you decide to tell me?"

Mal took a long time answering. _None of it means a damned thing._ For all that drew he and Zoe together, there always remained that one thing that kept them permanently apart.

_None of it means a damn thing. She'd said that to Mal once and later he'd turned around and said it to her; had come to believe it. Everything had a meaning, he'd once told her. A meaning, a purpose, a season for each thing. He didn't believe that any more. Didn't believe in a lot of things any more. Goodness and mercy. Zoe felt responsible for some of it. But, then, none of it meant a damn thing, did it? _

_Closing her eyes, Zoe backtracked, edging away from the black hole of memory around which she now tread. It was the place, the One Thing, that stood squarely and permanently between her and Mal, the thing that separated them even as it created an unbreakable weld joining them for all time._

He started and rejected several explanations before settling with, "Wash. Wash and Zoe. Mostly Zoe." Turning to stare out into the darkness beyond the shuttle's windows, Mal wondered why it was so gorram hard to talk on. It was so long ago and far away. History, ancient and lost. A brief glimmer of a something that flared and faded into nothingness fast as a shooting star, and left nothing behind but the burned-in memory. _Did Zoe ever think about the lost one? Ever grieve?_

The preacher waited patiently; must understand what a struggle it was for Mal to force out the words. "Zoe…" Mal said haltingly, "um… she and, uh, Wash… well, Zoe, at least, wants to have another child. And… you know what happened here with finding out about this lost one just this week. Zoe, she's making out like it wasn't anything. Trying to make Wash believe it… And, you know… I mean, _I know_, it ain't that way at all." _She'd been worrying on him last night when she found out about this lost almost-baby. Wouldn't take the comforting herself. And they all thought he was the crazy one…_

Mal stopped, trying to grasp the cold control that lately seemed just a hairsbreadth out of reach. With a sigh he swung the seat away, facing the shuttle's controls and the Black directly. He heard the preacher shift, then felt his hand clasp on Mal's arm. Though he knew the preacher meant it to steady him, the touch had the opposite effect. Mal squeezed his eyes tightly closed. Book let go.

"Delusions," Book whispered, "are such useful things." Quoting Wash's words, spoken only minutes before. "That's what made you decide to tell me."

"I heard Zoe tonight," Mal said, opening his eyes to stare back out into space, "finally talk on something she's been deluding herself over all these years." He flicked a sideways glance at Book. "You did something. Accomplished something, I figure. And it weren't nothing." Mal turned away again. "Hell… I should kick her and Wash off this boat. Cut 'em loose. Set 'em free. I'm just part of the problem. Maybe I'm the whole gorram problem."

_The recollections of that first time with Zoe, sweet though they were, brought no peace. It had all gone to hell by and by and maybe she was right that a mentioning of it at all to Wash would only bring more heartache to one and all. Weren't like there was anyone else left alive to spill the tale. Not a living soul. Only ashes and dust._

"No," Book said sharply.

Mal scowled over at him. " 'No' to which part?"

"Well, you are part of the problem, no doubt about that," Book said. "But the heart of the matter wouldn't be solved by Zoe and Wash leaving. They take that with them. Zoe carries this with her just as you do. And it's become clear to me that Zoe needs you every bit as much as you need her."

"I don't need…" Mal started to protest, then saw the look Book gave him. "Yeah, all right," Mal finished in a sullen mutter. _But Zoe don't need me. Not any more._

"_Wash is another life. Another lifetime. He's bright, and fun, and happy and he makes me feel positively joyous and shiny. Don't need a dead and buried history blackening the shininess." _

"_Yeah?" Mal said quietly. He was part and parcel of that history. Zoe didn't seem to comprehend just what she'd said to him there. Or maybe she did. "I think you're making a mistake. Some of that history is gonna come up and bite you one of these days and Wash may not forgive you for keeping it from him."_

Both turned away, staring out through the windows, each lost in thoughts. Book, Mal reckoned, was working the problem, trying to see a way through to make the black core of history not utterly tarnish the little bit of shiny he and Zoe had managed to find in their lives. For himself, Mal couldn't help but remember… a time, a place, a moment in the 'verse when life and the future had looked to be shaping up a whole different way than it ultimately turned out.

"It was a daughter," Book said suddenly, very, very softly. Mal froze. "You had a daughter."

"How…?" The word barely had any sound behind it.

"River," Book said with a trace of a smile.

Mal squinted at him. He'd had the notion there, up on the bridge, that River'd read his mind on the subject.

"River said…?" Mal swallowed hard.

"No," Book said quickly. "It's not anything she said, or the--possible--mind reading we think she does." He cocked an eyebrow at Mal. "It was you got me thinking on it. A while ago, when you finally told us you were from Shadow, and how it had been destroyed." Mal turned abruptly away but kept listening. "I got to thinking later on how you'd never said a word, not even a hint, about family you must have lost there." The gorram preacher must know how his words hurt, but he kept on, in a low gentle voice that stabbed deeper than harsh, cruel words ever could. "I thought on how you call Kaylee your 'little sister'. And how you took on River… a damaged, hurting, helpless little girl, and how you protect her--at enormous risk to yourself--like a daughter. Trying to save her like the daughter you couldn't save."

Mal took in and let out a slow, ragged breath. He scrubbed both hands over his face. "Sometimes I don't like you much, preacher," he said.

Chuckling warmly, Book said, "Oh, you don't like me very much most of the time. I remind you of too many things you lost or have come to hate. Or of who you might yourself be, were circumstances different. It ever strike you what a perverse quirk in your nature it is that you keep me on here anyhow?"

With a dark glare at the preacher, Mal demanded coldly. "Where'd you learn to interrogate a suspect like this? At that abbey of yours, or elsewhere? Huh? You could teach Commander Harken a thing or two."

Mal was a little surprised, and a little not, when Book laughed, warm and deeply. "I do enjoy it so, captain, when you launch one of these diversionary attacks of yours."

"Hmmph. Perverse much yourself?" Mal muttered.

"Can you tell me about it?" Book asked softly. "About the child you and Zoe lost?"

Mal threw his hands up. "I did. Ain't no more to tell about it. Just thought you ought to know the facts of the matter. For Zoe's sake." He stood up. "I think I'm done talkin' on the subject." Mal more than half expected the preacher to call out to stop him as he crossed the shuttle to the door. But there was only silence. It was the faint tremor in his hand as he grasped the latch that halted Mal.

_Zoe's hand on the latch of the door trembled slightly. It was the only sign about her that showed she was hurtin', Mal thought as he looked at her hard set features. Tough gal. Actin' like it didn't rip her apart inside. Like it didn't mean an absolute thing…_

The wave of remembered feeling swept over Mal, like to drown him so powerful was it. His hand clenched the latch tightly, unable to do anything else.

Book's hands firmly clasping his shoulders eased him away from the door and guided him back to the pilot's seat. Mal sank down, struggling to blank out the feelings, the images, to still the trembling. Eyes closed, he panted shallowly.

"Gorramit, preacher," he managed after a minute or so, "I don't know what's wrong with me. Shouldn't be like this."

"That was a flashback, wasn't it?" Book asked, his voice even and low. Mal appreciated that the preacher didn't put any worry in his tone; didn't think he could take that just now. Had enough worry goin' on for his ownself without anyone else's in the mix.

Mal nodded. "You know…?"

Book sat down again opposite Mal. "Yes. Seen plenty." He shrugged. "Had a few." Mal cast him a sideways glance. Book gave him a flat smile. "Told you before I'd understand."

Still fighting to steady his breathing and racing heart, Mal said, "It's been years… it shouldn't be like this," he repeated. "Shouldn't be this bad. Maybe I am crazy. Going crazy. Crazier." He dropped his face into his hands and panted.

"You had a bad moment there at dinner, too, didn't you?" Book asked quietly.

Mal nodded. "It was, um… In the brig, in Harken's cruiser, after he got done with me. I was, um, hallucinating, from the sleep deprivation and the drugs and all. Seeing things. I mean, I knew it was an hallucination--I wasn't that far gone. But it was… the food they left, like what Jayne served up tonight. Grey lumps… Anyhow, in the brig there I was seeing it… blood oozing, burnt flesh…" He shook himself. "Then there's River tonight building this little landscape out of the 狗屎… making this little valley out of it. And the shape…"

"Serenity Valley?" Book asked in a whisper.

"Yeah." Mal took a shuddering breath. "An exact map. That little girl's spooky sometimes." He paused and reconsidered. "Or I am. 他妈的. Maybe River was just making random shapes and it was just me seeing it as Serenity. Zoe did tell me in no uncertain terms my memory was screwed up on at least one point. Finally going well and truly off the gorram cliff."

Mal's hand brushed the small pill bottle in his pocket. He'd forgotten it. Pulling it out, he stared at it. Book made a 'gimme' gesture. Mal handed the bottle over.

"Zoe's notion," Mal said. "She wasn't gonna leave me alone last night until I had some sleeping pills. Simon gave me those."

"These aren't sleeping pills," Book said, handing the bottle back. His lips twitched in a hint of a smile Mal could tell he was hard-put to contain. "They're tranquillizers. Antipsychotic smoothers. Putting you to sleep is just a beneficial side-effect."

Mal scowled. "Simon's an asshole."

Book chuckled. "Simon's smarter than you give him credit for. He knows--medically, chemically--what was done to you on that cruiser. I was there when he was running the blood tests, trying to figure it out. And I know what was done physically and mentally. I got one of the MPs to tell me what they were doing to you, even though I couldn't stop it. Then I listened to the recording." Book shook his head slowly. "What's going on with you, captain--Mal--isn't just _you_. It's not just 'in your head' as you may be thinking. The images and memories may be coming from past traumas you've never really gotten over, but the triggers… the reactions you're having, that's because of things--injuries, actually--that were inflicted on you physically, mentally, and chemically, this last week." Book gestured to the bottle. "Go ahead, take one. A half, actually. It'll help."

Mal regarded the bottle. "Feels all kinds of wrong."

"Like you should be stronger?" Book asked. Mal nodded without looking up. "I haven't noticed any reluctance on your part to use painkillers or such as needed when you've been shot or otherwise hurt." Book shrugged. "Think of this as the same."

While the preacher fetched him a small tumbler of water from the shuttle's tap, Mal carefully snapped one of the small tablets in half, gulping it down before he lost his nerve. Simon messing with his head like he did River… Creepifying every which way. But then, there was what Simon said about the blood tests having results like River's. Eewww…

As the Shepherd was clearly waiting for the drug to take effect in him before badgering him with more traipsings through the bleak landscape of the past, Mal spent the time filling Book in on his notions about River, her blue-hand guys, and Blue Sun.

"Damn," Book murmured, uncharacteristically cussing. "I think you're on to something." Studying Book, Mal wasn't seeing a preacher at the moment, but someone else in those deep eyes. Book glanced up. "With your permission, captain, when we arrive at the Sanctuary I'd like to share some of this intel with some people there."

Mal's eyes widened a touch. "Gonna pray over it?" he asked ironically but had a fair hunch that wasn't at all what the Shepherd was talkin' about. "What the hell kinda place is this you're taking us to?"

Book smiled. "You'll find out soon enough. Just remember, there's often more to things than meets the eye."

"Yeah," Mal said shortly. "Said that myself once about a mine field. Still ended up with folks getting' blowed up." He looked out the shuttle's windows. Wash must be at the piloting. The ship was blasting back to slow as they entered the Sanctuary world's solar system. The system's star grew perceptibly larger and brighter than the rest of the starfield. "Well… be landing in a couple hours. Guess I can wait."

"How are you feeling?" Book asked, studying him closely.

Mal considered it before answering. Not unworried, but like the worrisomeness had been picked up and set off to the side where it didn't have to bother anyone. Calm, though not in a ready-to-wrestle-a-grizzly-bear deluded calm way. Clear-headed enough. That was okay. Didn't like the notion of having any situations blow up on them with him too muddle-headed to deal with it.

"Fine," Mal finally said, sounding slightly puzzled. He felt about half a step off to the left of himself. It was a curious sensation. He suddenly grinned. "Last time I swallowed any of them pills I got to sleep with Inara."

With a chuckle, Book echoed, "Sleep."

"Yeah," Mal relented to the exact definition of the word. "Just sleep." After a moment, he added, blurting it out, "She reminds me of Zoe. Before."

"What was Zoe like? When you knew her on Shadow?" The preacher's quiet voice let Mal draw back into the memories without the stark harshness of the feelings getting in the way. "Can you tell me about the daughter you two shared?"

* * *

**_Long ago, on Shadow…_**

Mal pulled up his horse so abruptly the animal reared and snorted. Shushing it, Mal scanned the sky. He'd heard the crack of a ship breaking atmo. Against the twilight sky he finally spotted the tail of flame as the ship backed down toward earth. Landing near the ranch…

Zoe.

With a grin, Mal kicked his horse into a gallop.

The ramp was down and various of the crew wandering about by the time Mal arrived. He jumped off his horse and strode toward the ship.

Then he saw her. Zoe walked… no _waddled_ down the ramp.

"Holy 他妈的 shit!" Mal said the words aloud for the very first time in his life.


	33. Chapter 33: Light and Shadow

**Blue Sun Job: **_Light and Shadow _  
靑日 Job: _Light and Shadow_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 33 **

_Serenity's_ ramp dropped to grassy, sunlit slope. A rush of planet-side air swept into the cargo bay, smelling of earth and plants and sunlight. Warm, and a little humid, with a rich life-filled taste, the air was unlike the unvarying processed air of _Serenity_ with her scent of metal, oil and machinery, and occasionally cattle. Some thought spaceships smelled bad. To Zoe, they smelled _right._ Zoe sniffed the planet's air again critically. Apparently the Shepherds kept some cattle, too. Maybe they could barter for some beef.

From the angle of the sunlight, Zoe took it to be early afternoon, in contrast to the ship's late evening. It would make for a long day and a long night. There'd been more than a few of those lately, she thought tiredly.

Zoe studied Mal as Mal studied the landscape. Arms folded firmly across his chest, his stance shouted his resistance to whatever charms this world might hold. The treeline of a forest showed in the distance to one side, the brick and stone buildings of the preacher's Sanctuary about a half a mile away in the other. Mal appeared fixed on the church spire peeking over other buildings, and trees. The chiming of bells carried lightly on the breeze. Zoe particularly noticed Mal had not yet set foot off the ship. He didn't appear to be rushing into it.

He'd spent a long damned time up there in the shuttle with the preacher. Wash had speculated out loud with enthusiasm; Zoe silently, with concern. Odds-on they'd been conversing on the dinner table chatter. Her husband had been avoidy as all hell on the topic, but had squeezed her hand in a way that said volumes and was like to melt her heart. No talking. No scenes. No drama. Just… caring and acceptance. It was good. It was right. It was like what Mal had done for her--and she for him--through the years. Maybe Wash _could_ get past the big dark things in her past once he'd seen them and saw they really were nothing but history. Soon as they were settled here on the dirt, she intended to lock the door to their bunk and show him properly how much she appreciated his new-found understanding. Now, about the other one…

_Serenity's_ engines whined down. Wash would be down in about five minutes, Zoe estimated. At a measured pace, Zoe crossed the cargo bay toward Mal. Pounding feet startled her. She spun in a full circle as River and Kaylee raced by her and on out the ramp.

Zoe frowned as the girls dashed out of the ship heedless of any potential danger that might be lurking. Stepping up beside Mal, he gave Zoe a half-grin and chuckled as he watched the girls run up the slope. Kaylee did a clumsy cartwheel, collapsing in a giggling heap on the grass. River did a handspring beside her, her skirt flopping down over her head until she fell down by Kaylee.

"Do you remember the last time you did that?" Mal asked as Kaylee's and River's boots and socks went flying.

"No," Zoe said, a little more sharply than she intended. Such casual carefreeness…

Mal peered at her. "What's eatin' at you?"

"Nothing." She gave a short sigh. "Everything."

"Glad you narrowed it down," Mal commented flatly.

Zoe fixed a solid stare at him. "What were you and the preacher talkin' on about?"

He met her stare. Something flickered in his eyes, but for the life of her she couldn't read what it was.

"Nothing," he said finally, breaking the contact, "and everything."

"That leaves a lot of room in between, sir," Zoe commented dryly.

"That it does," Mal murmured. He appeared to hesitate a moment before adding, "Turns out them nothing spaces in between all the somethings got a whole helluva lot of not-nothings in them."

Frowning as she stared at him, Zoe said, "That may be one of the stranger sentences I've ever heard you concoct."

"But it's a pure truth," the Shepherd's voice came from behind them. Both turned their heads toward him. He stopped behind Zoe and Mal, gazing out over the landscape. "Everything, no matter how small, has a purpose. Every moment of every life has a meaning," he said.

The grimace that passed between Zoe and Mal took no effort on her part to interpret. _None of it means a damned thing…_

Then she looked at Mal more closely and saw something else in his expression. Though he had it controlled and contained pretty tightly, something else was at work in him. Preacher getting to him? Reopening the old wounds to rub them raw? Or to heal them?

"Hey, cap," Jayne's voice boomed across the cargo bay. Zoe glanced around. Jayne and Simon strode side-by-side toward them. "We're gonna go fetch back the doc's stuff now, if'n that's okay."

"Jayne volunteered to help me," Simon said, amusement creeping into his tone.

"Jayne volunteered to help tote your stuff?" Mal echoed, staring.

With a snort, Jayne said, "Yeah. Don't figure there's much else to do here."

Book smiled at him. "You could devote your energies to spiritual pursuits," he said seriously, but Zoe saw the twinkle in his eyes. "Perhaps see about cleansing your soul of worldly desires."

Mal snorted. Simon laughed outright. Zoe didn't even try to stop the grin from spreading across her own face.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Jayne grumbled. "But there's a town a few miles off yonder might offer better odds of the cleansing of them desires, I figure."

"Just try not to get in any trouble," Mal called as Jayne and Simon stepped off the ramp and headed out.

Zoe saw Mal jerk as the sound of a shuttle launching sounded. "Inara," she said. "Off to the other side of this rock." She shrugged. "Clients, I guess. She'll be back in a couple days. Would have told you but you were…" she cast a sidelong glance at the preacher, "…occupied."

"Yeah," Mal said distantly. "Don't figure this is her kinda place neither."

"You planning to ever step off the ship, yourself, Captain?" Book asked.

Zoe raised her eyebrows as she waited for Mal's answer. He turned back toward the landscape stretching out before them.

"Seems like I was promised some sort of answers, once we got here," Mal said slowly.

Zoe scrutinized Book.

"The answers are out there, if you know where to look," Book said.

Mal scowled at him. "Takin' cryptic lessons from River, there, Preacher?"

"The girl says some insightful things at times," Book commented.

"Yeah, I've noticed." Mal grinned. "And a nice diversion off topic your ownself."

"Thought you'd like it," Book answered matching his grin.

Zoe stared from one to the other and back again. "What…?" she started when the clatter of Wash's boots on the catwalk distracted them all.

"We're locked down, captain," Wash called as he descended the stairs toward them. "And Inara's off." He reached the ramp, putting his arms around Zoe from behind. She leaned back into his embrace. Felt good. Good again. Good still. "There's some kind of EM field here on this rock that I suspect would shield _Serenity_ from most any orbital scan, once the jets cool. 'Less someone does a visual flyover, we're near invisible parked here."

"Good to hear," Mal commented. Zoe saw him eye the Shepherd as he asked Wash, "You figure that's a natural field?"

"I dunno. Seems too regular, but it could be." Zoe felt Wash shrug. And she saw the slight 'no' Book gave to Mal. Hmmm…

"Okay, then," Mal said, giving the tranquil scenery another long look. "If you two want to head out, I'll…"

"We'll stay with the ship, sir" Zoe cut him off. Wash's grip tightened on her. She pushed back against him, swaying a bit. "You go off and have…" What would be an appropriate word? "… uh, _fun_." Wash snorted softly in her ear. Mal frowned at her.

"Right," Mal said, eyeing them. "I'm sure you'll be alert and…"

"On point," Wash interjected.

Mal gave a little shudder. "Yeah."

"Why don't I show you some of the outlying areas of the Sanctuary," Book said quietly, gently urging Mal forward.

Zoe watched them go, then turned in her husband's arms. "Now what was that you were saying about being on point?" she murmured against his lips.

* * *

Shepherd Book barely suppressed his smile as he and the captain stepped off _Serenity's_ ramp. The captain's reluctance to engage this religious place was almost palpable. When they'd landed before embarking on the Blue Sun job, to leave off River and Simon, Mal had pointedly remained on the ship. Book doubted he'd even looked out the windows at the Sanctuary. 

"It's not a battlefield," Book chided. "There won't be an ambush from behind those trees," he said as he watched Mal check for cover and potential sniper positions in a way Book knew was as much habit as any act of conscious volition.

"So you say," Mal commented dryly. "Ain't necessarily that kind of ambush I'm suspecting."

Chuckling aloud as they strode across the tree-dotted slope, Book said, "I assure you, Captain, no one is going to pounce on you and forcibly subdue you to wrestle your soul back to the Lord."

"Mmmm." It had a dubious sound to it.

"Tempting, though that may be," Book added with a twitch of a smirk.

After a moment more, Book carefully asked, "Did you tell Zoe what we were talking about?"

Mal shook his head. "No. Don't really know how. Or if." He flashed a quick grin at Book. "You took on the job of professional meddler, guess I'll leave that call to you." If he read it right, Book saw more than a tinge of nervous apprehension in Mal's eyes.

He gave Mal a solemn look. Book had realized all along that Mal and Zoe shared a particular, and sometimes peculiar, relationship, but until a few hours ago he hadn't fully understood how deep and complicated that relationship truly was. He found himself hedging on giving full disclosure of their history to Wash. Yet even as he thought it, he knew--as the captain now seemed to realize--that nothing would erase what had been, nor its impact on the triangle between the three of them.

Then there was Zoe. Book held her in high esteem. He'd followed her into battle and would not hesitate to do so again. She was a competent soldier and ship's officer, as leader or follower. Yet she was more--a woman, a wife, and... a mother. A mother with no living children...

Book cast a sideways glance at Mal. It was a new way to think of both Zoe and the captain. They'd been through so much hurt and carried so much still with them. What had he been thinking? How did he ever imagine he could heal or help these two hopelessly intertwined people? With the tales of war, death, and loss, Book had felt himself on stable ground. He had told Mal he would understand and he'd meant it. From his own past, and from the experiences of those he knew, he could reach out to them. But this...? What could he say to a woman about the loss of a child, and now the loss of another, and--had Zoe even thought it herself?--the possibility that there would never be a living child of her own to meet and embrace?

And Mal... He'd hurt for her hurting and the bond of his empathy would be another wedge stabbed between Zoe and her husband.

Book rubbed his temple, grimacing.

"Gave you a headache, huh, Preacher?" Mal asked tauntingly.

"You sometimes have that effect," Book said.

"Only 'sometimes'," Mal said with a wicked grin. "I must be slippin'. Want one of these little happy pills of Simon's? He weren't kiddin' when he said they'd 'take the edge off'." He paused. "Asshole," he added as an afterthought. Book had a hunch that was going to be the captain's private--or maybe not so private--name for the good doctor for some time to come.

With a low laugh, Book said, "I'd have paid a pretty to see you zonked out on those in Inara's bed." At Mal's raised eyebrow query, Book felt heat rise in his cheeks. He added ruefully, "That didn't come out sounding quite like I intended."

"Lots of things don't come out like they're intended," Mal muttered, and Book suspected it was more to himself that to the Shepherd. The captain looked distant for a moment as he regarded the treeline. The breeze shifted and the light sound of laughter and voices carried to them. River and Kaylee. Mal let out a small sigh. Then Book saw him give himself a shake and try to pull his cloak of bitter defiance back around himself. Too little, too late, Book thought. He'd seen well and truly past that. Oh, the bitterness, anger, and defiance were real enough, but they weren't all there was, and--Book suspected--weren't a part of the 'real' Mal, at least not the dominant part.

"So, Preacher. I've spilled a whole helluva lot to you about me these past couple days," Mal said. "Am I gonna be getting my answers about you here now."

Book cast a long glance over the Sanctuary's buildings, some clustered together near the chapel, others scatter around the grounds. "I need to put you off just a little while longer. I need to discuss a few matters with others here, and arrange a few meetings. Two hours?" he said, glancing at Mal.

The examination he got was long and probing. "Is this place a danger to my people?" Mal asked.

"No. Trust me on that," Book said seriously. "It's better protected than you may imagine, and no one here has ill intent to you or yours."

This measured look was punctuated by an accepting blink. "All right, then," Mal said. "Two hours."

"Why don't you take a look around the grounds in the meantime," Book suggested. "It really is quite a pleasant place."

Nodding his assent, Mal strode away from Book.

* * *

Even though he hadn't wanted to, Mal had noticed how pretty this place was. And peaceful. Curious, damned thing, that. The sense of 'peaceful' radiated out from all around him. Hmph. Radiated. Like an uncontained reactor core? 

_He ain't a Shepherd..._ Ah, hell... He was a Shepherd. Mal couldn't be reading the man that many kinds of wrong. Book--or whateverthehell his name really was--rode on the side of the good guys, or tried damned hard to. Just... somehow not the fuzzy-wuzzy squishy soft, get smooshed flat whilst turning the other gorram cheek sort of Shepherdy good guy. Did that make any sort of sense? Mal wondered, or was his brain too 他妈的 fuddled up to be making any coherent sense.

Malcolm Reynolds wasn't so much on the side of the good guys his ownself anymore, now, was he? Not so very much…

No, Book wasn't lookin' to trap 'em, no how. Had he entertained notions on doin' such a thing, he'd have done it whilst they were stuck there in custody on Harken's cruiser. And, yet, Mal couldn't shake the feeling Book had a Big Damned Something he was fixing to aim right square at the captain of _Serenity_.

Pretty place... Looked a mite bit like... uh, home. No red and gold gas giant fixed in the sky, though. Sky here a touch richer shade of blue, the grass a bit greener. Or had his recollections of Shadow faded into gray over time. Shadows of memory? One of the few pictures he had was black and white. Maybe that shaded his memory. Mal sighed slowly as he ambled along, edging further away from the buildings and closer to the treeline.

Coming over a little rise, he saw barns and pastures stretching out over the rolling landscape. Rich scents of hay and grain mingled with the homey smell of the livestock. Shepherds raised themselves dairy cattle, 'peared to be. And some hogs. Some truly inspiring gardens stretched out beyond the pasture-land. Dang. Mal hoped this herd of preachers would be willing do some trade. Then he recalled the only money he had was stolen... 狗屎. Did they have anything they could use for barter?

Wandering away from the barns, Mal followed a small stream until he came upon a stand of young trees, just dropping their first yellowed leaves of autumn. The afternoon was warm, but with a hint of future frost in it.

They hadn't had thick forests on Shadow. More scatter clumps of trees. But there'd been this stand of young trees, down by the creek...

Almost as though drawn against his will, Mal found his feet taking him toward the trees. Maybe it was the doc's gorram pills making him all mellow and sentimental. Sure, that was it. This weren't nothing but a clump of foliage. Didn't mean... didn't mean...

And when he stretched out on the carpet of fallen leaves beneath the whispery trees, watching the light flicker through their branches, it didn't mean he was comfortable in this place. Didn't mean... And when he was drawn back through time and memory to a different 'verse, when he and Zoe had been young and hopeful and free of the weight of burdens of life and death, it didn't mean... well, it didn't mean a damned thing.

* * *

**_Long Before, On Shadow..._**

"Good God, Zoe! What in the gorram hell happened to you?"

Zoe couldn't keep a smile from scoring her face even as she scowled at Mal Reynolds. So this is what it took to crack that no-cussing proper thing of his. Ah, hell, a wonder he just didn't faint dead away when he saw her come a'waddlin' down the ramp of Daddy's ship.

"I would think you could take a good 他妈的 guess," she hissed. He weren't actually lookin' so much at _her_, as he was starin' at her tummy with an open-mouthed expression, lookin' for all the world like he'd just been shot betwixt the eyes and just hadn't yet had the good sense to drop down dead to the ground.

Suddenly he weren't lookin' at Zoe at all, but stared up at the ship like he expected it was gonna sprout arms--with claws, damned sharp ones--to reach down to gut him. What Mal was thinkin' was written all over his face, clear as could be. Zoe didn't need to turn to look to see the smirks of the rest of the crew, nor strain to hear their snickers. She'd been living with them for months. "Can't wait to see the look on that dirt-kisser's face," had been the theme onboard for quite the little while.

"Umm… Zoe…" Mal said hesitantly, still staring at the ship. "Should I be expectin' your daddy to be marchin' on down here to kill me right at this very minute?"

Zoe bit back a smile. Dang him, anyhow. She'd come out all fixed on bein' stern and angry, and here he was sounding so utterly and sincerely convinced that her daddy was gonna whoop his ass that she couldn't help herself of being amused. Ah, gorramit… there was just something so 他妈的 charming about this boy.

"Damn you, Mal Reynolds," Zoe snapped, then let out a short sigh. "He ain't gonna kill you just yet. Though your momma's like to," she added.

"Oh, hey, don't you go worryin' 'bout Momma," Mal said, tearing his eyes off the ship to stare back at Zoe. He didn't seem to know quite where or how to look at her so ended up talking to her hair. Zoe fought back a grin.

"And why's that?" Zoe asked. Momma Reynolds had yelled a whole helluva lot louder than Daddy had when they'd caught their younguns grapplin' in the hay mow some-odd months back--well, truth be told, she knew exactly how many months back.

Mal's face radiated blank innocence. "'Cause we'll sure as certain stop on by the preacher's and get properly hitched before we introduce this predicament to my momma," Mal said.

"What!" Zoe squawked.

* * *

"Can you ride?" Mal asked once Zoe settled down a mite. Gorramit. What was wrong with this gal? Shows up swolled up like a poisoned pup then balks like a stubborn ol' mule when he fixes to make things right. 

"Yeah, I can ride," she said sullenly, but then couldn't manage to mount on her own.

Mal tried to help but it was damned hard to do _(and what was with all these cuss words suddenly floating 'round in his head, he wondered ruefully)_ without actually laying hands on her anywhere. Guessed he'd done gone and touched her more than entirely enough already. Good God Almighty _(beggin' your pardon, Lord)_... how had this happened? Well. Guessed he knew too good and well the answer to that. Yikes.

Grabbing his hands, Zoe planted them firmly on her so he didn't have to decide where to touch her. Once they managed to land her on his horse's back, Mal wrestled with the next conundrum--whether to walk while he led the horse, or mount up behind her. Again Zoe settled the issue by saying... well, snappin' kinda testily, "Just get on up here, you gorram fool." Mal obeyed, thankful she couldn't see him cringe when she wrapped his arm around her... well now, couldn't quite call it a 'waist' anymore, could ya?

"You weren't so 他妈的 shy when we was makin' this critter," Zoe muttered as they rode slowly away from the ship.

"That was different," Mal said defensively.

Zoe chuckled. "Yeah. Reckon so."

"Anyhow," he said, "I figure you've had some time to cotton to this notion, whilst it's just'a smacked me right out of the blue... or Black."

They rode silently for some time, Mal aiming them almost without thinkin' on it to the little stand of trees down by the creek. It was a still, peaceful place, where a man could get his bearings and do some clear thinkin'.

"You ain't asked," Zoe said suddenly out of the quiet.

"Asked what?"

"If it's really yours." Zoe paused a split, then added, "Or if I'm _sure_ it's really yours."

Mal pondered on that for a solid minute or more. "Don't guess I gotta ask such a thing. Guess I trust you to tell me straight out if such a notion merits askin' on."

He saw Zoe's lips twitch and noticed she was blinkin' hard. "You are a curious one, Malcolm Reynolds," she said quietly after a moment.

Managing to help her down with less visible consternation, Mal tied his horse to one of the slender trees, then walked beside Zoe down toward the creek. She settled herself heavily to the ground, sitting amidst the fallen leaves and twigs. Picking up a fallen twig, she idly pulled the last clinging leaves off of it. Avoiding lookin' at him, Mal reckoned.

Mal stood over her, staring down, struggling to deal with the tangle of conflicting emotions surging through him. This situation sure as hell weren't in the plans. Not that he'd picked out one'a the neighbor gals to settle down with yet, but--他妈的--he sure as certain knew the list of likely candidates down to a one--good gals Momma and the preacher approved of--and… hell, Mal reckoned he could love any one of 'em well enough if he had to…

Then there was Zoe. Took a shine to her right from the start. Sparkly gal outta the Black. Fierce. Tough. Kinda gal legends are made of.

He watched her break some of the small twigs off the stick. Mal swallowed hard. Looked for all the world like a gun she was shapin' outta that stick. Permayhapsbe it was Zoe, not her daddy, ponderin' on shooting him for gettin' her in this fix. Hell.. it was just a stick and she was just'a fidgety and nervous her ownself. Didn't mean what he thought. Mal shook it off. But how was she gonna do here on Shadow, settled down on the ranch, raising younguns? Mal frowned. Somehow he couldn't see Zoe in an apron with a passel of critters hanging off her. Tied down. Not that it weren't a good life, but it weren't _her_ life. Mal glanced up and around. But, then, weren't no other choice. Not like he could go off roaming the stars with her.

He'd had the peculiar little notion right from the start with Zoe that they'd be together a long time. Destiny, might say. Or like the good Lord had a plan and a couple dumb kids just got a jump start on kickin' that plan into motion. Path don't always lead where a fella thinks it's gonna. Might could be that was the case. To everything there was a season… Everything had a purpose. Everything was part of the plan. Everything had a meaning. Even this. Some way, somehow, this innocent little accident they'd made meant something. Something big. Something forever. Forever. Him and Zoe, together forever.

Turning his face upwards, Mal studied on the light flickering through the leaves and branches. Just gotta have faith, he thought. Don't matter how dark it gets, the light still shines through, showing the path.

Suddenly, Mal grinned down at her.

Zoe met his eyes warily. "What you grinnin' 'bout?" she demanded.

"That there is gonna be one beautiful baby," Mal blurted out, grinning even broader. Couldn't help it. He'd let the Lord fill him with His serenity, and the certainty that the path through this woods was clear. Mal just _knew_ everything was gonna turn out as it ought.

Shaking her head, Zoe stared at him. "You are a tweaked one, you are," she said slowly. "Figured you to be bitchin' an' moanin' 'bout now and there you are looking for all the 'verse like you are actually happy 'bout this situation."

With a long sigh, Mal sank down onto the ground beside her. "Can't say it didn't catch me as a big dam-- dang surprise. But it'll be okay. It'll work out. I'll take care of you. You and the youngun. Forever. You can trust me on that."

The second big shock of the day came to Mal when he looked into Zoe's eyes and saw, clear as could be, she didn't believe him.

* * *

**_Now…_**

Mal blinked his eyes open, squinting. Sunlight flickered across his eyes through the leafy canopy. Moaning softly, Mal shaded his eyes. Had he dozed off? Pleasant enough dreams, though he couldn't remember exactly what they were about. Peaceful. A golden leaf spiraled slowly down from the trees.

"Falling…" a soft voice nearby said. Mal turned his head sharply. River sat, legs crossed, a few feet away. She caught the drifting autumn leaf, staring at it intensely. "Falling," she repeated, to the leaf. "The sun came out. But it always goes dark again. From light into dark. Life into death."

"River…" Mal started. How'd the gorram girl sneak up on him like that? That was unsettling. More'n the words she was babblin'.

Flinging her head backward, River peered upwards. "Light and shadow, light and shadow," she chanted. "Shadow of death." Crumpling the leaf, River dropped it to the ground, then quickly buried it beneath a pile of its fallen comrades. Mal groaned. Too gorram easy to read too much into what that girl said and did. Shoulda stuck with ignoring her crazy ramblings. Easier. Simpler.

"River, what are you doin' here?" Mal demanded.

She smiled over at him. "Followed the path," she said. Mal scowled. He hadn't seen no path. She picked up a stick beside her, holding it up. Mal stared at it. She'd broken off bits to make it gun-shaped. "It doesn't mean what you think," River said meaningfully.

"I think it's a stick, River," Mal said carefully.

The girl stared back down. She turned the stick over and over. "Oh," she said, seeming surprised. "Then I guess it is what you think," she said in a puzzled tone.

"I think you ought to get on back to your brother," Mal said nudgingly.

River shook her head. "He's such a boob."

With a chuckle, Mal said, "I can think of better words."

Fixing a solemn gaze on him, Mal saw clarity and coherency return to the girl's eyes--the cryptic crazies vanishing as quickly as they came. River said, "But he's not stupid. He's making me better. He is," she added defensively when she saw the dubious look Mal gave her. "Can make you better, too," she said, "if you let him."

Struggling to sit upright, Mal said evenly, "I don't need no fixin', sweetie."

Mal didn't know whether to laugh or cringe when she gave him the 'you're such a boob' look she sometimes gave her brother. Damnably pesky having a mind reader around sometimes.

"I remember everything," River whispered, her eyes going distant, but not vacant, again. Mal frowned. He more'n a little didn't want to be dealing with her just now. "Remember too much."

"Don't we all," Mal injected in a whisper.

"All the bits. She remembers everything too." River refocused on Mal, shaking herself all over. "Confession time," she announced loudly. Mal felt his insides tighten despite himself. Too damned many ways to take that little pronouncement.

"Yeah," Mal said distractedly, climbing to his feet. He brushed the leaves and twigs off himself, then reached down to help River up. No need. She sprang to her feet effortlessly and twirled away in a dance to music Mal sure as hell couldn't hear. Then, with a sudden chill, he did. River was dancing in time to the breeze swaying the treetops. Dancing with the trees. Gorramit. He really, really preferred it when he didn't understand a thing she said or did.

At a slow trudge, Mal climbed up out of the stand of trees to the sunlit slope. River stopped halfway up the rise and turned back toward him.

"Two by two," she chanted, but stopped before finishing the rhyme. Her huge eyes stared into him. River quirked a tiny smile. "Time to conquer the 'verse."

Mal scowled and continued on toward his meeting with Shepherd Book. He didn't know what that gal meant, but something about it was all manner of disturbing.


	34. Chapter 34: Of Many Books

**Blue Sun Job: **_Of Many Books… _  
靑日 Job: _Of Many Books…_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations) **

* * *

Chapter 34 **

Shepherd Book waited for the captain near _Serenity_. Not a word passed between the two as Mal fell into step beside him. Though Book led the way, the captain had an interesting way of not quite following. Casting a sideways glance at Mal, Book noticed his expression was fixed, rigidly controlled though tinged with a shadow of suspicion at where Book was leading him. Suspicions fairly earned, Book thought ruefully.

For himself, Book clung to the sense of tranquility--he dare say _serenity_--flowing through him. He'd only spent a short time arranging the meetings he'd claimed to use to stall off Mal a few hours. The rest of the time Book had spent in the chapel, meditating, praying, imploring for guidance on this path he was about to embark upon. And hoped to drag the captain onto. Actually, that serenity was a mite precarious. But, then, wasn't serenity always precarious? _… you do not know the path of the wind…_ And the path ahead was always lost in the uncertainty of the future. Always and eternally hidden from view…

Past the main cluster of the Sanctuary's buildings, across an open lawn, through a small grove of olive trees, Book led the captain to a long, low outlying building--the most remote of the Sanctuary's many structures. Leading the captain up to a cellar side door, Book opened it, starting down the stairs to another, very solid door--armor with a fine wood veneer. Unlocking it, Book pushed it open. It may have looked like oak but it kerthunked like a vault. As he stepped through the doorway, Book noticed Mal flinch at the sound.

Mal flanked Book for exactly three steps into the small antechamber before he stopped, frozen in his tracks. Book glanced around. The captain's eyes had gone dark as they darted around. Oddly, Mal backed up slowly, staring around the--Book thought--innocuous room in a way that struck Book as being perilously close to panicked. He'd see the captain scared, worried, and nervous, but this reaction edged more toward the uncontrolled flashback attacks Mal had been having. But what had triggered it?

"Captain?" he said, trying to use his voice to pull the man back from the brink. "Are you all right?"

Shaking his head, still edging backwards toward the door, Mal said, "I ain't goin' into this place."

Book looked around, puzzled. "What is it? What are you seeing?" The room was bare and featureless. Two doors led off the far end. Nothing else. Empty.

Mal had reached the stairs, almost tripping as he bumped backwards against the bottom step. He was breathing heavily. Book moved to his side, clasping his arm to try to steady him.

"It's an Alliance place," Mal said. "Detention. Or police." He shook his head. "Something bad."

Oh. Book understood. "Here," he said to Mal gently. "Sit down." The captain sank down onto the bottom step, in the open doorway to the outside. The breeze that came in was clean and fresh, the sunlight bright, both in contrast to the dank gloom of the underground chamber. Book eased himself down beside him.

"It _was_ an Alliance facility," Book said in a low, even voice. "But it hasn't been for years. The brothers own it now. It's part of the Sanctuary. It's safe," he added. Book suddenly wondered how River would react to this building. And if Simon would permit him to find out.

Mal seemed to take that in. He gave Book a long, studying look--again, measuring and weighing. Book sat quietly and let the captain work though his reaction himself. Part of Mal's reaction was wholly reasoned analysis, Book decided, but part came from the lingering effects of what had been done to him on Harken's cruiser--one of the very things Book had wanted to draw Mal down into this place to try to resolve.

"During the war," Book explained in soothing tones, "there was a small, rather secret, Alliance facility here, bordering on the Sanctuary. We were never sure exactly what took place here, but I suspect you're correct in saying it was either police or detention of some sort. Afterwards, it was abandoned and my Order acquired it, removed the fences, changed some parts, altered the building's appearance, and incorporated it into the Sanctuary grounds. It's safe," he repeated as Mal clearly was still not convinced.

"What was it made you think it was Alliance?" Book asked, hoping to get the captain to talk, to reason it out.

Mal shook himself. "Uh… I dunno." He still appeared lost in the reaction he'd had to this place.

Frowning, Book asked, "But you've never been in a facility like this, have you? I mean, from your service record…"

"Everything ain't in there, Preacher," Mal cut in. Book watched him force himself to steady down. The captain glanced up, peering into the antechamber. "Weren't all straight-up fights and big-ass battles. More'n a few times we got dropped down behind the lines--just a small unit--to play at hit-n-run raids."

"Guerrilla fighting," Book said. "Huh." _Good_, he thought. Somehow, without having reasoned it out, Book had suspected that the captain's and Zoe's ease with small-scale and clandestine operations had more of a base to it than being a minor part of a massive infantry unit could explain.

"Yeah," Mal said. "Mostly just trying to discombobulate the Feds, soften them up before major offensives, but a couple times we was getting the locals organized into the fight. Them as favored the Independent leaning but had the Alliance's boot stomped too tight down on their necks to do a gorram thing about it." Mal chuckled bitterly. "All worked out real 他妈的 well."

"Sometimes it's the effort that counts."

"That's what losers say," Mal said. He tossed a crooked grin at Book. "But it was damned fun at the time. Mostly."

Book watched the captain stare off into the underground chamber again, his expression distant; seeing another place, another time. Mal went on, "One time, though, one world… couldn't even say for sure where or when… Um… locals had been raising a ruckus, hittin' at the Feds. They got put down. Hard. We, um… we raided a place. Like this. It was bad."

Though Mal said 'it was bad' without inflection, it struck Book that simple statement from this man who had seen so much that redefined how bad _bad_ could be, said much. "So, when you saw this place…?" Book trailed off, but in a nudging way.

Mal swallowed and closed his eyes. "Well, them as we got out… let's just say it would have been kinder if we hadn't. But we gave back as good as we got and… uh, well, that's a little troubling too, the things we done to them Feds. There was some serious repenting afterwards." He let out a heavy sigh. "So, this place, it's uh… I dunno," he repeated. "The shape. The smell. The feeling… Gorramit!" He buried his face in his hands and breathed heavily for a minute. "For a minute there it was like stepping right back through time. This is part of the 他妈的 going crazy. Like River."

Book nodded slowly. "Yes," he said. "It is like River."

That got Mal's attention. His head snapped up and his eyes locked onto Book. "Huh?"

"The drug," Book said, "that was given you on Harken's cruiser… the truth drug…" He hesitated, then went on, "I know you're familiar with it, what it does, used it on a spy yourself during the war… but that was a lot of years ago. But, did it strike you as at all wrong--what it did to you? How you reacted?"

Mal scowled. Book watched him close his eyes in concentration. "Well, yeah. I sure as hell thought everything they did to me was wrong, but you mean the drug. The way it felt. What it did." Mal said slowly. Book nodded. "Yeah. It did seem odd," Mal went on, "but it's hard to say… I ain't no expert. And I was so tangled… It knocked me on my ass. Made me real sick. But I reckoned that was the counteragent messing me up so bad."

"Partly," Book said. "Or so I believe. The counteragent I acquired apparently was only partially effective against the exact drug used on you, and may in fact have caused some adverse reactions of its own. You see, Captain, they haven't quit working on the formula, since the war ended. Making it more effective. Making it do more things. Making variations. Chemically forcing certain reactions, certain behaviors."

Mal's eyes widened at that. "Sonuvabitch. River. You did mean it. That lil' girl was a part of their experimentin' right along those very lines."

Book nodded. "Only taken to a far greater extreme than what was done to you." With a scowl, he added, "Maybe not experimenting. Maybe completion."

"Completion of what?" Mal asked.

* * *

Mal stared at Book. It was a helluva lot better than staring at this eerie-ass place the preacher had led him. Fingering the little pill bottle in his pocket, Mal wondered if he ought to pop another of Simon's little smoothers. 他妈的 asshole Simon. Slipped him anti-psychotics. Well, the damn doctor'd tagged him as psychotic from day one, hadn't he? Now he just had the medical evidence to back that notion. 

Closing his eyes, he propped his elbows on his knees and rubbed his temples. His grip on this very moment felt razor thin and that was all manner of disturbing to him. Once upon a time he'd sat amidst golden leaves flickering with sunlight and shadow, with the puritest gal in the 'verse beside him, on the bestest damned world ever made by the hand of God, and remade by the hand of man, and saw a future shiny as all get out. For just that littlest moment time didn't mean anything. Everything inside and out was warm, and love-filled, and… complete.

Dust and ashes now. All of it. Shattered into pieces, never to be whole again.

And everything from that moment to this was hard and bloody and violent.

"_Everything I feel, everything I touch… Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that… knowing what I've lost…"_ The voice in his head whispered. Didn't know if he whispered it out loud.

The golden leaves brightened in the increasing sunlight. Brighter and hotter. The leaves blackened… crisping… until they ignited… Leave but never left. All the ones gone but still with him walking past. Burnt and blackened. Others. Marching past. Bloodied and torn… Down the stairs, into the chamber. Ghost after ghost. There wasn't enough room for them all. Not near enough room. It's getting very crowded in…

"Captain!"

…here. Dark and gloom and just an empty place in the here and now and Shepherd Book had him by the arm shaking him and the man looked to be positively unsettled every which way he could be and there was no blood and no ashes and no ghosts lookin' at him accusingly and askin' why he was still breathing and they weren't and no nothing and it don't mean what you think and none of it means a damn…

"Captain!"

"No touching!" Mal jerked away. He took a shuddering breath. "What the hell…?"

Book stared at him. No calm preacheryness in the man's face now. What was it? Sort of a dark, smoldering anger. At him? No. Not at him, Mal realized, at them what done this to him.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Book asked softly.

Mal looked away. "Kinda fucking obvious, ain't it?" he snapped. He yanked out the bottle of pills, shook one out--didn't bother to break it in half, just swallowed it down whole.

"I thought you were on the mend," the Shepherd said mournfully. "Your system must be breaking the drug down into different components, metabolizing them differently, rather than…"

"If I want a gorram medical lecture I'll talk to our asshole doctor," Mal started, then stopped, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. "I'm sorry," he said tersely, not looking at the preacher. "I know you're trying to help. But I ain't…" He hesitated. "I'm just figuring out there's a big damned difference between everyone else thinkin' you're crazy and thinkin' it your ownself. _My_ ownself." He shivered and stared into the chamber. Empty.

Shepherd Book then shocked Mal by letting out a string of cussing worthy of the badest of the soldiers and outlaws Mal had ever known. Mal listened with admiration, not least of which was inspired by the fact that the preacher went on a good minute or more, never repeated himself, yet never once crossed the line into blaspheming.

"Damn, Preacher," Mal said, with a sincere grin on his face once Book had wound down. "That was impressive. And scary… that, uh, you'd do that kind of cussing on my account, rather--you know--than _at_ me."

With a chuckle, Book said, "Well, a little was at you." Book stood, staring down at Mal. "Stand up, Captain," he said in what was clearly and distinctly a command. "You _are_ going to talk to our… doctor." Mal's lips twitched slightly at Book's letting the modifier drop unspoken into his pause. "And cooperate with whatever testing and treatments are needed to get you over this."

Mal cast a wary glance over the dim chamber, but it remained empty and featureless. The smoothers kicking in, he reckoned. He studied the two doors at the far end of the room. Some vague recollection of a story with two doors to choose from came to mind. Couldn't recall the details, but it seemed that neither choice was like to lead to puppies and rainbows.

* * *

Simon followed the brother who'd come to fetch him with a growing sense of apprehension. Details had not been forthcoming from the man, but from the materials he was told to gather and bring, Simon knew something must be wrong with the captain. He hadn't heard any gunfire. Did the shepherds keep swords around? Trust it to Mal Reynolds to get himself into trouble in a religious sanctuary, Simon thought wryly. 

"Holy mother of…" Simon murmured as he stepped through the door the brother held open for him. He hadn't been to this outlying building of the Sanctuary during his stay here; had barely even noticed it. Now he wished he had. Wished it most sincerely. Below it, behind a series of locked doors, Simon now understood another part of the mystery of this place Book had brought them to. Understood, yet also didn't understand. Mysteries within mysteries.

Simon ran his hand over a long countertop as he took in the equipment in the long, narrow room. A lab. A quite decently equipped lab, and no mistaking. His lips twitched at the ornate woodwork and religious decor twined with the sterile lines of medical equipment.

"Doctor." Book's low voice pulled Simon's attention from his covetous examination of the lab.

"Book. Captain," Simon said. He hadn't noticed them sitting down in an alcove at the far end of the long room in a pair of carved wooden chairs flanking a small table. Mal didn't look up. He had an elbow propped on the table with his head resting in his hand. Simon couldn't recall ever seeing him look less captainy. He appeared half-sick and more than a little scared.

Forcing himself into a mode of professionally detached calm, Simon hurried without hurrying to the alcove. Seeing the captain appear so uncertain made Simon uneasy at a core level that surprised him. Simon shoved that aside.

"Captain?" Simon tried to get his attention so he could begin to diagnose the situation. No blood. No sign of injury.

Without looking up, Mal said dully, "You were keen to do more tests on me, Doctor. Go ahead."

Simon glanced toward Book, who gave him a solemn nod. That's why the brother who came for him had instructed Simon to bring the captain's last blood samples and the results of the analysis Simon had done on them.

"I need more information," Simon said briskly even as he moved to set up to take a blood sample. The brother who'd accompanied him moved smoothly and silently, activating equipment, laying out supplies. The perfect assistant, anticipating Simon's needs.

The captain said nothing, just cooperated with an distant lack of involvement in anything Simon directed him to do. Book filled Simon in on the captain's condition in coolly analytical terms. He also told Simon about the drugs--the truth drug and the counteragent, as well as their supposed relationship to Blue Sun and River's condition.

Simon's eyes widened more than once, not only at the information and theories Book presented, but at the need-to-know information Book was giving him that suggested not only was the Shepherd far more than a mere preacher-with-an-interesting-past, but both Book and the captain were both more involved with, and connected to, the sort of underground organization that had helped Simon, himself, free River from the Academy. Had they…? How long…?

Circuits in Simon's brain burned hot and fast as he processed all the information. That very first day on _Serenity_ when Simon had spilled his tale of getting River out… Neither Book nor the captain--nor Zoe--had so much as twitched at his mention of the underground. Had the lack of reaction been telling in itself? So many secrets concealed.

The captain's reasons for keeping he and River on _Serenity_… Needed a medic? Or was it for River, and Simon was just the excuse? And why had Book picked _Serenity_? On that particular day? And stayed with the ship all this time?

Simon's head spun a touch but he shoved all the worries to one side and concentrated on the issue at hand. Book was telling him that the captain's condition might hold keys to diagnosing and helping River. Finally Mal spoke up, reciting in a low monotone what had happened to him on the cruiser, and each type of reaction he'd been having since. The contorted, sickened, initial reaction to the drug. The fight against the forced compulsion. Hallucinations. Memory gaps. Simon filled in for himself the extreme reaction Mal had to a standard sedative. Then the residual effects. Altered memories. Flashbacks. Now evolving into something more, something different.

"I know what post-traumatic stress flashbacks are like, Doctor," Mal said blandly, still not looking up. Two surprises for Simon--one, that the captain knew and would use that terminology for the syndrome, and, two, that he would acknowledge himself as having had it. Simon could see that the smoother was all that was making this possible for him to discuss at all.

"These ain't it," Mal went on. "Not no more. It's more like…" He stared off into an unseen distance for a moment. "It's… um… confused," he muttered. Simon held still and waited. "I remember things. Like I'm still there. Stepped through time. I remember everything. I remember too much, and... some of it's…"

A small sound of shock escaped Simon before his cloak of professional detachment could stop it. Mal glanced up at him for the first time. With an icy chill running down his spine, Simon finished what the captain was saying, "…made up, and some of it can't be quantified, and there's secrets. Is that what you were going to say, Captain?"

"Something like that," Mal murmured, staring a question mark at Simon.

"Tell me, Captain. Have you found yourself…"

"Reading minds?"

Another chill swept over Simon. "Uh huh?" was all he could manage. Mal snorted. Okay, the problems hadn't knocked all smartass out of the captain. Simon scowled.

"No, Doctor. No mind reading. Me, at least. But it sure as hell seemed like you did some just then," Mal said.

Simon turned away and studied the testing materials. "No. I was quoting River." He met Mal's eyes. "And so were you."

"Well, that's all manner of creepifying," Mal commented unnecessarily. A bit of a given, at this juncture, Simon thought.

"'Stepped through time,'" Book injected softly, repeating the captain's words. He stared off into space thoughtfully, toying with his moustache. "What if River isn't really reading minds so much as reading--" he shrugged "--time?" Book looked at both of them. "What if the captain wasn't quoting River a moment ago, but River--instead--was quoting the captain, only in advance." Book turned to Mal. "I recall River gave you something to take with you on the Blue Sun job…"

"Yeah. Little gadget. River said to keep it with me on the job. Just a bit of Blue Sun advertising crap. But the battery out of it saved our asses there in the vault," Mal said. "River had that figured."

"Mmmm…" Book chewed the corner of his moustache. "I don't know of anyone's mind she could have read the need for that out of. Do you? Not mind reading. Seeing the future."

"Not a psychic," Simon said slowly, "a seer?" He just didn't believe any of this, mind reading or seeing the future. There was simply no quantifiable evidence to support any of these ideas. And yet… Quantum phenomena? They dealt with variable time constantly while traversing the stars, though he doubted any of them ever thought about it. They just pointed the ship and made it 'go', as natural as artificial gravity. Altered time in that regard _was_ quantifiable. Hmmm… If a human mind could…

"Prophet," Book said, having apparently not followed Simon's unspoken thought-track.

"Witch," Mal put in darkly. Simon and Book stared at him. Mal shrugged. "Them folks on Jiangyin called it." He glanced over at Book. "Like they run across some like her before?"

Superstitious nonsense, Simon thought. "They were ignorant peasants using the Bible to justify their own lunacy," he said sharply before he considered how that sounded in this religious setting.

"What, exactly, did they say, Doctor?" Mal asked.

Trying to take the edge off his words, Simon stumbled a bit, recalling the quotation, "Um… they shall be among the people. Speaking truths and… No, _and they shall speak truths_ and whisper secrets, and, uh…"

"That ain't from the Bible," Mal said. At Simon's startled glance he looked down and away, muttering sullenly, "Well, it ain't."

More shocks and surprises, Simon thought. Am I getting numb to them yet? Captain Reynolds speaking authoritatively about the content of the Bible? And Shepherd Book nodding agreement?

"At least not any commonly recognized standard editions," Book said.

"So they rewrote their edition to suit themselves," Simon said. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Or someone rewrote it for 'em," Mal commented. "Think on them words and see if it don't describe River and Blue Sun and them creepy blue hand fellas?"

"You're making it sound like a conspiracy," Simon said.

"Yeah," Mal said judiciously, "just paranoid. Not like anyone in the 'verse would really coax brilliant little girls to a secret school, cut on their brains, turn them into time-mind-reading witches all whilst hiding inside a big ol' corporation selling t-shirts and soda pop. Right?"

The captain must be feeling better. Simon's frown turned into a chuckle. "Okay. You convinced me. I can live with being paranoid." He cocked a brow at Book and Mal. "After all, they really are after me."

* * *

At least the doc's drugs were holding the weirdities at bay, Mal thought as he submitted to whateverthehell it was scanner Simon used to see inside his skull. Gorram gadget weren't exactly like that whatchathingie on Ariel he'd been so keen to get River into, but Simon said it would give him some info to compare. Whatever it 他妈的 took to rebury the ghosts in his head, Mal was willing to do. 

"Let's leave them to work," Book said quietly as Simon concluded the last test. The doctor and the brother were already engrossed in their work; didn't notice them leave.

From one door, through another. Place was a gorram maze. A puzzle place with another secret hidden behind each door. What the hell kind of monastery was this? Mal cast a sidelong glance at Shepherd Book.

"So, Preacher," Mal started as Book led him into a rich-looking library room with a long wooden table stretching down the center, "seems we started this little palaver to get to the bottom of your secrets, not mine. What say we return to our original intent now?"

Book smiled at him, reached to one of the bookshelves and, in a way Mal had thought didn't exist outside of Cortex dramaplays, swung the bookcase outwards, revealing an armored door.

"Sonuvabitch," Mal said. The crawlies within started to battle the smoothers. Mal drew in a sharp breath.

"Steady," Book said low. He grinned at Mal. "This secret you'll like."

The armored door moved aside to show a long stone stairway descending into the earth. Mal didn't think he so much liked it yet. Pretty fair to say he didn't like it at all so far. Book started down, Mal following, his hand going automatically to his non-existent gun.

As the preacher stepped off the final step lights came on in the underground chamber.

"他妈的!" Mal breathed, taking in the sight. Rack after rack, row after row, crate after crate, stretching out before him… weapons. Rifles, shotguns, handguns of every shape and size. A row of Callahans that would have had Jayne drooling… or pouting jealously for Vera. Beyond the more conventional weapons… Mal's jaw dropped. At a loss for any coherent words, he spent a moment cussing. It was nowhere near as poetical as the preacher's round of cussing, but it was sincere.

"Them's military rifles." Mal pointed. "Independent issue." Another rack. "Alliance issue. If we had weapons like this…"

"Wanna?"

Mal stared at Book. "Huh?"

"You need to replace the weapons that were confiscated." Book shrugged. "Store's open."

Blinking, Mal studied Book. The man was so cool it almost hurt his teeth to look at him. "Some of them guns are illegal," Mal commented, watching Book closely.

"And that concerns _you_?"

"And all my money's illegal. 他妈的. You're offering to sell me illegal weapons bought with stolen platinum?" Mal continued. He jabbed a finger toward the racks of weapons. "Them ain't plowshares, Preacher."

With a chuckle, Book said, "Yet the offer stands."

Trying to wrap his head around this peculiar turn of events--and recent events had been gorram well redefining the word 'peculiar' every which way--Mal wondered if maybe he'd gone off that cliff at last and this was just some weird crazy-time delusion he was stuck in. What color was that pill he swallowed? Any rabbits about?

"Well, I ain't gonna say 'no'," Mal managed at last. "I got the notion these preacher-guns are like to be pretty damned untraceable."

"That is a fact," Book said coolly. "Let's go back on upstairs and talk about it."

"Talk about a lot of damned things," Mal muttered as he climbed back up the steps.

Hidden armored doors resealed, and bookcase back in place, Mal sprawled in one of the chairs at the side of the long table trying to ignore the uneasy sensation that the wall behind him might conceal a door. Book, he noticed, took a seat at the head of the table. Now didn't that just say something, Mal thought.

"Enough with the freaky-ass surprises and mysteries, Preacher. Just tell me on out straight, what's going on and who the hell are you?" Mal ordered.

Book smiled and sighed. "I am just what you see--a Shepherd. And I was just what you thought--a cop. Good. And bad."

"Only that ain't all. What about you knowin' Independents' military codes, and the underground recognition stuff?" Mal kept focused on him, probing for truths and lies.

"Did you look around here at all? Talk to any of the brothers?" Book asked.

"No." Mal said, staring. Preacher knew he'd avoided the religiousness.

"If you had," Book said lightly. "It's possible you might have recognized a face or two."

A wariness began crawling over Mal and it had nothing to do with drugs or blue hands. "Huh?"

"Some of the brothers here were in a few of the same places you were, at the same times. You might have seen them… beside you in a trench, or--" he shrugged "--in your gunsights."

Mal let out a long breath.

"Some feel the calling young," Book went on, "and step into the life of a Shepherd from the first moment they're able. But others--in our Order, most--come to it later. They have a revelation of mind, of spirit, and seek to change who and what they are. The war--_your_ war--brought many to us, broken in every way imaginable. Some came seeking God. Many came just seeking to hide, from themselves and the things they'd done and become. We healed them. God healed them."

Book turned and fixed a laden smile on Mal. "They brought with them their hurts, their pains, their traumas." He lifted an eyebrow. "But they also brought with them their knowledge. And their skills. And their connections." Book studied Mal quizzically. "Tell me, Captain. Have you ever heard of the Knights Templar?"


	35. Chapter 35: The Worthier Part

**Blue Sun Job: **_The Worthier Part _  
靑日 Job: _The Worthier Part_

Disclaimer: The parts about passenger restrictions on the _Paragon_ are unaired segmentsfrom the script of the pilot episode.

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 35 **

"_You like to tell me what really happened?" _

"_I surely would. And maybe someday I will." _

"I waited a long while for this, Preacher," Mal said, his eyes never straying from Book. "And with more'n a little notion I was playing a chancy game with the wait."

"Yes," Book said softly, "and I appreciate it more than you can know." He smiled slowly and thoughtfully. Mal saw him look off into the distance, seeing through time. "I found more than I was looking for the day I walked aboard your ship. Took me a while to realize that, though."

Mal nodded. "I hear that," he said. He'd only been looking for a boat to take him and Zoe out beyond the long arm of the Alliance. A faceless, nameless crew would do. Didn't much mind the whos of the matter, long as they aimed to stay free like him and Zoe. Instead he ended up with a ship full of troublesome folk who'd turned into some kind of family on him, including one more than passingly odd preacher with designs on being some kind of warrior knight crusader out of Earth-That-Was history. Mal'd thought the 'Knights Templar' were some kind of Core-world sports team… Not so much, it turned out. Instead, they were an ancient, powerful--and a mite secretive--religious order of knights. And there was something about money… Lots of money…

"Tell your tale, Shepherd," Mal said, low but firm. "Start from the beginning."

His rich eyes peered into Mal. Book chuckled. "Which beginning?"

* * *

Shepherd Book made his way through the tangled Eavesdown Docks, tugging his few possessions along behind him. The chaos and noise bemused and amused him. How long since he'd walked in such a place? And how little had changed. How little ever changed. 

"You going on a trip, grandpa? Need safe passage? We're cheap. We're cheap, we're clean. The _Brutus_, best ship in the 'verse. What's your des, grandpa. Come on… We're hitting the outer rings--"

Yes. He remembered this, too. Glancing up at the hulking ship, Book quelled his distaste. A cruise line, but decidedly not a luxury one. Disreputable. But slimy disreputable. Sleazy. Not what he was looking for.

"I never married," he informed the obnoxious barker, just to actually make him think for a moment.

"What?"

"I'm not a grandpa." Hmmm… he was of that age, now, wasn't he? Sixty-odd years in the 'verse. Odd years, indeed. Strange path this life had taken him. Not at all what he'd expected. Nor what he'd strove toward once upon a time, before the Word spoke to him a new truth of a different path. Don't know the path of the wind. Can never know what's over the next horizon. Where had the time gone? Where had _he_ gone? And what was he now?

He passed a fancy ship next--the _Paragon_. Ah, yes… they can dress 'em up pretty but a Gurtlser engine's always going to be twitchy. Why half those swanky folks bidding on the last berths would be losing their lunches before that ship broke atmo.

"…three berths left, junior suites. We are not interested in Asian or Catholic passengers, thank you. We will be bidding for the last three berths…" the _Paragon's_ barker called.

And they deserved the barfing, Book thought, surprising himself with the uncharitable thought. Not even a day out of the Abbey… tsk, tsk.

The next ship barely made him slow down. It was small--particularly small and ratty--compared to the ships around it. But then a sweet smile and swirl of color caught his eye and the voice of an instant friend informed him, "You're gonna come with us."

Book paused then, glancing up at the name on the side of the ship. _Serenity_. Oh, the perfect irony of it. Years spent in the Southdown Abbey seeking serenity, and the very day he walked out the gates, he found it waiting for him.

He examined the ship again, more closely. Sometimes God's message is entirely clear. The Firefly practically had 'rebel outlaw' emblazoned on her bow. And the name… Not the slightest hint of doubt in Book's mind that the master of this ship was a Browncoat with a boatload of bitterness he hadn't left behind. Hadn't even tried. Might just be the one. Might just be. Book decided he had to meet this mystery who dared be so defiantly open about his past--maybe not so past--allegiances. This little ship might just be the one to give the Shepherd called 'Book' the tour of the 'verse he sought.

_Serenity._ Disreputable… yes, indeedy. But sleazy…?

"So how come you don't care where you're going?" the charming young lady--Kaylee--asked him. No ship with this gal onboard could be considered 'sleazy'. Just wasn't possible. Her inner light positively shone. So who and what was the resentful Browncoat outlaw who had such a one as this standing at the door to welcome a weary traveler in?

"'Cause how you get there is the worthier part."

* * *

Mal shook his head. "So you picked _Serenity_ on account of _me_? Fergawdsake why? You hadn't even met me at the point you came on board. And I don't recall a whole lot of warm fuzzies passin' between us when you did." 

Leaning back, Book stroked at his moustache as he considered his answer. "It's hard to say, Captain. I set myself out to walk in the world to learn, not to preach--though you frequently tempt me in that regard. Your ship was so clearly disreputable--" Book gave Mal a bemused grin. "Don't look offended. I needed to see the shape of the 'verse as it truly was. Not the glittery propaganda of Unification. Not the shiny view from the top. I needed to see from the bottom. From 'beneath the radar'."

Shifting in the fancy carved chair, Mal scanned around the ornate library. The preacher hadn't quite called 'em 'bottom-feeders', now had he? Not that there wasn't a ring of truth to that notion. So, Book aimed to see the seamier side of the 'verse. Well, Mal'd given him a damned good show of that, no denying.

Mal rubbed his eyes. The smoothers were keeping the crazies contained, but they were also making him a touch disjointed; hard to hold focus. Maybe there was something to that time thing the preacher had talked on. Now, when he was telling his tale about finding _Serenity_, it was real damned easy to see it all again--like he was still standing there. Vivid as could be. All past, though. It'd'a scared the hell out of him if he saw the future that clear. No wonder River got so gorram upset sometimes, being unstuck in time, seeing bad things comin' and not knowing where they were coming from. All the horrific things the future could hold… who'd want to have to know what was there, lying in wait to snare you.

"Seeing the future…" Mal muttered, "…useless if you can't do nothing about it. Worse than useless… Knowin' what kind of bad is gonna be comin' up and can't do nothing but wait for it…"

"We don't know if that's the way it is for River," Book said smoothly. Mal shook himself back to the present. Preacher'd managed to keep up with him when he jumped tracks there for a moment. "Or if she sees possible futures, or an absolute future."

"If we could see the path ahead, how many of us would want to make the journey?" Mal comment quietly. Better to be a little lost.

Then trying--however unsuccessfully--to make his little diversion seem part of the original conversation, Mal added, "So, 'pears you had a path in mind when you came aboard my ship. With us givin' you a guided tour of the lowdown and dirty side of life. How'd that work out for you?"

Book chuckled with a bemused sound. "It almost didn't from the very first day. Inara was the hitch in the plan."

"'Cause she's a whore?"

Cocking an eyebrow at him, Book gave Mal a disapproving scowl. "Well, I do confess I'd been out of the company of women and--ahem--carnal matters, for quite some time, and that did throw me for a bit of a loop. But, no. That admittedly poorly concealed reaction I had to Inara upon your oh-so-gracious introduction was because she's a _Companion_, and that spells social status--_Alliance_, Unification-supporting, Core-world social status, and connections. Respectable. And legal. Thought I might have the wrong ship after all, until it became clear she was the only legal thing on your boat." His expression darkened. "Still… it was all… more than I bargained for, and not what I expected…"

* * *

Everything he once was told Book that the Fed--Dobson--had to be disposed of. _Was. Was. That's not the person I am anymore. Can I only be a good man, a good Christian, within the confines of the Abbey walls?_ He'd beaten Dobson senseless on old training and instinct, and it frightened him. _Can I avoid temptation only where no temptation exists? Can I be good only where there is only good?_

Eyes closed a moment, a silent prayer to give him strength to choose the nobler path…

"Lawman, it's Shepherd Book." He slid the door open. "I believe you're in more danger than…"

Shock. Blank. Dark. Excruciating pain and the odd lingering thought that you can't judge a book by its cover… 'Cause he hadn't heard that one before…

"I'm not playing anymore. Anyone makes so much as a…" _Bang!_

And that was that. The captain hadn't even broken stride. Saw what had to be done and did it in an instant. Right. Wrong. Murder. Execution. Cold, hard necessity with no time to pray, lament or brood over it. Do it. Dump the body. And move on. Did the captain give the life he took even another moment's thought?

* * *

"Despite all my bold resolve when I left the Abbey gates, I almost broke that night," Book said a tad wistfully. "Two days and my little trek through the 'verse was already just about more than I could take." 

Here was the hard part for the man, Mal thought, watching him carefully as he listened. "You ain't a coward," Mal said softly. "You hung tough and stayed on to help out Kaylee when the Reavers were on us. You think on leavin' after that? And why didn't you? You stay 'cause of River? Had her marked?"

"_Take her. Keep her safe."_ Coincidence he ended up on the same ship as Simon and River? Or the divine hand of Providence guiding his way? Or--and he pondered on this thought many a time in the days following--had Simon's path been directed toward Book's keeping? When Simon said he'd been contacted by some sort of underground, Book's suspicions had flickered. There'd been the faintest of rumors about experiments. Secret projects. Had Book and Simon both been subtly directed toward the same place? Toward _Serenity_? If so, by whom? He didn't know. But he knew in an instant that River was important and he had to learn how.

"No. And yes. I saw a glimmer in Simon and River of where this path I'd started on might lead. If only I were strong enough to follow it. No, Mal… again, it was you. Shooting Dobson like you did."

"And what that said about me?"

Book's smile at Mal was sad. "What it said about _me_."

* * *

"You should really have the young doctor look at this." 

The gentle touch of a sympathetic woman… how long had it been? He didn't deserve her kindness. "It's not so bad." He deserved the pain. The punishment. The retribution. Two days out of the Abbey and he'd failed. Not just failed, but failed spectacularly. Years--how many he couldn't even count--years he'd spent becoming a new man, and now…

"Well, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I didn't say that," he said, looking up at her. Inara's eyes registered her understanding. This young woman understood those who were lost, Book realized. Maybe that's why she understood the captain she claimed not to understand.

"Is this what life is, out here?" Had it always been this way? Had he forgotten? Or had the creeping darkness spread, held at bay by too few?

"Sometimes," she said.

He needed to confess. "I've been out of the abbey two days. I've beaten a lawman senseless. I've fallen in with criminals... I watched the captain shoot the man I swore to protect." He paused, the pain of the true sin of it almost more than he could bear. "And I'm not even sure if I think he was wrong."

Shaking, Book managed to get out, "I believe I just…" He couldn't quite say the words inside him out loud. I'm not strong enough. I'm not good enough. I'm not Godly enough. Instead he finished, "I think I'm on the wrong ship."

The Companion heard what he said, and, he suspected, heard what he hadn't said. "Maybe," Inara murmured. "Or maybe you're exactly where you ought to be."

* * *

Book gave a long slow sigh. "No one ever promised me the road would be easy. But I never expected it would be so hard." 

"Ain't that the plain truth," Mal whispered. He waited a moment for Shepherd Book to come to grips with the words he'd confessed to Mal. Then, changing his tone, said, "So… the 'verse didn't shape up to be the holier-than-thou sweetness-n-light sort of deal you'd come shopping for," Mal said. He let his expression turn cold and deadly as he stared at the preacher. "So, how long were you using me and mine for your little spying mission for your secret society?"

Meeting his eyes unblinkingly, Mal watched Book smile slowly and coolly at him. "From the very start."

* * *

Zoe didn't like it. Zoe didn't like it at all. 

She checked the loads in the small revolver she'd found--not worth enough for the Feds to swipe. The captain had disappeared hours ago. Book was missing. Now Kaylee told her Simon had been fetched away by one of those eerie monk types.

And now Wash was pissed because she'd gone off and left their warm nest to hunt for Mal. Sometimes men were just… Ah!

River reappeared as Zoe started down the ramp, babbling some of her more ominous nonsense. Something about too many corpses for the space. Not enough room underground. Had to cut their ears off to make them fit. Zoe gave the girl a studied glance. Something about that sounded uncomfortably familiar.

Tucking the pistol out of sight inside her vest, Zoe warily surveyed the grounds. All bright and pretty and safe-looking. Looks can be deceiving. Where had she heard that before? Sanctuary full of Shepherds… harmless as a kitten. With an EM field shielding them from orbital scans. And Lord knew what else. Now… Where would Mal go to get himself into trouble…?

* * *

"More of a scout, than a spy, Captain," Book said. "I told you, we had these brothers joining us after the war, from both sides, and from all ranks, levels, and positions. Some took years to tell their tales--some still haven't. But bit by bit a few of us began putting together a picture of the way things were shaping up outside our quiet enclaves and realized we were gathering the resources to do something about it." 

Book took a deep breath before plunging on. "There's sin of action--of doing bad things. But there's also sin of omission--of sitting back and doing nothing; of letting evil prevail. A group of us came to the conclusion that's what we were doing. We were hiding in our abbeys and sanctuaries while the darkness spread." He looked up and met Mal's eyes unflinchingly. "We decided to step out and fight the good fight."

Mal snorted softly, surprising Book with his reaction. "Fight the 'good' fight by signing up with a criminal?"

"Yes, well… you may have your… _issues_ with right and wrong, but you were still doing more than I was," Book said. "But first we needed information, sources, connections."

Shaking his head, Mal said, "Wait a minute. I had the notion you had the whole big, ol' ancient deal going on here with your secret symbols and sneaky web spread out every damned place. Now you're making it sound like it's just a handful of half-scared preachers with no notion of what the hell they were really up against."

Book shrugged. "We're somewhere in between. The 'web' exists, but the literal hard recruitment and call to action doesn't. Yet. There are eleven of us who are in on the core of the organization. We can pull together a potential hundreds, maybe thousands, in short order."

"Well," Mal said lightly, putting his hands flat on the table, he started to stand. "Then I guess you do have enough guns to go around in that shiny little arsenal of yours to equip your army. You see, I was puzzling over how you planned to conquer the 'verse with just a bunch of Shepherds, those light arms downstairs, and--apparently--my ratty little, _unarmed,_ disreputable ship. But I see you got it all worked out, so I'll just be on my…"

"Oh, sit down, Captain." Book ordered.

Mal sat, irked no end that Book had done that to him yet again.

"We don't have an army…" Book began.

"That is plainly evident," Mal inserted. "The Independents had an army. I was part of it. We had guns and ships and artillery and bombs and it wasn't enough. We had more guts and will power and… _faith_ than all your knight-preachers put together. And it still wasn't enough. We thought… _I thought_ God was fightin' on our side. But He weren't. What makes you think you can do any different with so very much less?"

A grin spread across the Shepherd's face. "Because we are going to do different."

* * *

"Son of a 他妈的 bitch," Simon whispered, then glanced at the brother assisting him. "Sorry, Shepherd," he said. "I'm just… These results…" Simon gestured toward the scope. "Tell me if you see what I'm seeing?" 

The brother bent over the scope, peering and making adjustments, as Simon talked out his findings. "It's a catalytic reaction," Simon said. The textbook definition flitted through his mind as he considered the ramifications of the test results. _…a substance, usually used in small amounts relative to the reactants, that modifies and increases the rate of a reaction without being consumed in the process_. "Son of a 他妈的 bitch," he muttered again, earning another chastising look from the brother. He didn't bother to apologize again. He'd earned every bit of chastisement there was to earn.

"It's not simply a catalyst, though." Simon spoke his rapidly whipping thoughts aloud, trying to force them into some kind of familiar order. "It changes, adapts, modifies, as new substances are introduced. Evolves, almost," he said, shaking his head. "More like a virus in its change and adaptability than a fixed chemical compound, but not a living substance." Pausing, he rubbed his head. "I recall an article--years back--in one of the research journals. Very speculative. Very theoretical. Theoretical to the point of incomprehensibility. But, as I recall, it suggested such a substance could be possible. _Possible_. Not developed--" he gestured to samples they'd derived "--to this point."

Straightening up from the scope, the brother nodded solemnly at Simon. Did the man have a vow of silence, Simon wondered. Apparently not, for the first time the brother spoke, his voice carrying decidedly Core-world intonations. "That article was bait," the brother said, "to draw in those with potential knowledge and aptitude for that branch of research."

Simon huffed softly. "Like a certain school catering to brilliant youth," he inserted.

The brother nodded again, then broke eye-contact. He fingered the sample vials distractedly. "We, uh… have a few documents here… research studies we acquired… You might be interested in reading." Then he met Simon's eyes again. "If you don't have qualms about reading stolen material that the Alliance would kill you just for seeing."

Simon laughed.

* * *

This was an unsettling scene, Zoe thought. Young trees with the first hint of autumn coloring their leaves. The shadowed ground beneath them carpeted with twigs and golden leaves. Mal had been here. She could tell. Gorramit. This place screamed of memories best left to rest undisturbed. 

"_Zoe, darlin', why are you still arguing this? We're gonna get hitched and that's just the way of it." _

"_Don't you go orderin' me around like I'm some hired hand. I don't answer to you. And why? Do you love me so much, huh? Tell me you love me so much you want to be with me forever. You 'pect me to stay here on this ranch? I don't figure you flying off 'round the 'verse with me for the rest of forever. We've had some fun romps but that ain't cause to go throwing your life away just 'cause you feel guilty." _

_Mal gave a frustrated sigh. "You are the most purely confounding female critter I have ever met. Listen… There's more to being married than… well, what we was doin'. And I don't feel guilty. Well, okay, I do, but that's not the point. Getting hitched to someone ain't about the fun and games and the laughing and the… the rompin'. It's about being true to another soul, loyal to 'em in the no-matter-what even if you don't happen to particular even like 'em at the time." _

"_Like at this very time?" Zoe stared at Mal a long time. "You still ain't said you love me. So why you wanna do this?" _

_He stumbled for the words a moment, then looked away. "'Cause it's the right thing to do." _

Closing her eyes, Zoe gritted her teeth. This place… so like that little glade on Shadow where she and Mal had hashed out the future-that-never-was between them. She'd been right. But so had he.

With a deep fortifying breath, Zoe opened her eyes again, shoving aside the memories to focus on the here-and-now. He'd been here. She squatted down, examining the ground, the crushed leaves, bent twigs. More tracks… barefoot. River. Picking up the gun-shaped stick, Zoe stared at it for a long time.

Maybe it didn't mean what she thought.

* * *

"Okay," Mal said. He stood, pacing the library. How much else was hidden in here? "So, whatcha do got is a serious intel organization. Lots of brainpower. Lots of knowledge. Lots of connections. Solid and secure communication paths." He made a small gesture toward Book. "And a sweet cover with the religiosity and respectability." 

"Yes," Book said. "Few people look past the collar to the person underneath."

"And pretty much a foothold--infiltration--everywhere you got a church or an abbey," Mal continued. He shook his head slowly. "Yeah, I could lasso you in a passel of Independents I knew back in the day that'd join the fight just for the pure hell of it, neverminding we'd get our asses kicked. Again. That still don't translate into an army that will win you a war with the Alliance." He scoffed and studied Book. "Had my fill of lost causes, preacher."

Book chuckled. "Whatever else that drug is doing, it's not making you tell the truth anymore." He peered at Mal, his eyes twinkling. "You live for lost causes."

Giving Book a lopsided half-grin, Mal said quietly, "No. I don't. It's just happenstance that's the only kind of cause I got left."

"Then it's time to take up one that isn't lost," Book told him, staring at him intensely.

"Yeah, but what you told me here isn't…" Mal began. A knock on one of the oak doors interrupted him.

The door opened with a creak. Simon peered in. In his hand he held a syringe filled with clear liquid. Mal repressed a shudder. More rutting drugs.

"Captain?" Simon called softly as he pushed the door open wider, entering the library followed by the brother who'd been helping him in the lab. "I, uh… I think we might have a formula that should neutralize the drug in your system."

Smelling a lot of 'if', is that what Jayne always said? "You're not showering me with confidence here, doctor," Mal said warily. "I don't aspire to be your guinea pig. You got your sis for that."

Simon blushed a satisfying shade at that comment. "Umm… Okay. I deserved that. Umm…"

"Spit it out, son," Mal ordered. Truth to tell, he'd let Simon stick just about anything in him at this point if there was even a slight chance it would put a stop to the crazies.

"I think the problems you've been having are my fault," Simon blurted.

"What do you mean?" Book asked.

"Captain, do you have the, uh, _sleeping pills_ I gave you?" Simon blushed again. Mal stared. Not that he didn't enjoy making the doctor embarrassed and uncomfortable on occasion, but this just didn't seem like one of those occasions.

"Yeah." He pulled out the bottle and tossed it to Simon. "And I know they're not sleeping pills. They're smoothers. Anti-psychotics, like you give River." Mal didn't stop the sharp edge from creeping into his tone.

Simon turned almost as red as the mahogany table, Mal noted. But why? True enough he ought not to have foisted such a thing off on the captain without telling him, but he had that whole cocky arrogance doctor thing going for him, so why the blushing?

Staring at the bottle, Simon said, "It seems these reacted badly with the original drug given you. They acted as a catalyst to change and enhance the effects of the original drug--strengthening and changing the effect." He looked contrite as he met Mal's eyes. "I thought they'd help. They just made it worse."

Mal shook his head. "Uh uh. No. I mean… ah, hell. They're the only thing keeping me from going completely off the beam right here and now."

Simon sat down and laid the syringe on the table. He sighed heavily. "So many things were happening to you--chemically--that it's difficult for me to sort out from blood samples, and such, exactly what caused what. For one thing, a lot of it took place before I even entered the picture. This counter-agent, supposed to be inert unless activated by the truth drug--which could more accurately be described as behavior modifier--which was of a somewhat different formulation, it appears, than the counter-agent was designed for. All of which was further complicated by Commander Harken apparently taking it upon himself to stir sedatives and stimulants into the mix."

Shaking his head, Simon regarded Mal tiredly. Hmph. Doc was tired just trying to sort it all out? Mal was the one who'd been on the receiving end of the whole gorram mess.

"All of this," Simon went on, "combined and interacted, then was whammied by more sedatives which put you out for better than twelve hours."

"And left me with a killer headache and some left over twitchies," Mal said.

"Yes," Simon said. "But it was fading, I think, until I brilliantly handed you these." He held up the pill bottle and sighed. "Which triggered a whole new set of problems."

"I slept well," Mal said with a shrug. Let's see, on the balance, which was better… sanity, or getting to sleep with Inara…?

Nodding, Simon said, "Yes, but from what you've told me, it was after that the flashbacks started, growing steadily in intensity and frequency."

Mal squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, seeing the images again just off the fringe of the control the smoothers gave him. Opening his eyes, he gripped the back of the chair tightly, ignoring the ghosts glimmering at the edges of his vision. "Great. So, what, then?"

Simon held up the syringe. "This. It's a variant on the original counter-agent drug." Mal glanced at Book, who nodded. Simon added, "It's worked to neutralize what's in your system in the test samples we ran."

"So you do need a guinea pig to field test it," Mal said slowly. "And there's exactly one candidate." Oh, goody.

* * *

Once Zoe stopped tracking Mal and evaluated the grounds critically, it didn't take her long to arrive at the outlying building. Yes, tracks indicated several people had gone into it recently. Into the basement. The windowless basement. She surveyed the structure cautiously. 

The building itself bore a red brick exterior with granite trim much like the rest of the Sanctuary's buildings. But the overall shape… This place was--or had been--something else. Something that niggled at the darkest corners of memory. Just the sort of place Mal would go to get into trouble without proper backup.

Zoe stopped a small gasp from escaping her. That was it. Little town on a nothing world, but one of the nastiest raids they were ever on. She shuddered and chopped the recollection off with a cold force of will as she began to plan her approach.

Locks not locked. Doors not guarded. The lab showed signs of recent activity. Zoe glanced over the papers. Simon's writing. Incomprehensible notations. Silently through a door. A corridor. Another turn. Ahead, a whisper of voices. Sounds.

A library. Empty. But chairs pushed out. On the table, a pill bottle. And an empty syringe. A door at the far end stood open. The deep tones of Book. The clipped enunciation of Simon. Where was Mal?

Then she heard vivid cussing and a smile twitched at her lips. There he was. Edging through the doorway, she took in the scene before letting any of them see her.

It was a small kitchenette. Stove, counters, small table, a few chairs. Zoe eased a long knife out of the butcher block on the counter by the door. One of the preacher-types stood nearest, facing away from her. Simon and Shepherd Book stood close together near a door open to a small bathroom. Stepping into the kitchen, Zoe loudly cocked the pistol.

They all turned.

"Back away from the captain," she ordered, leveling the pistol on Book.

"Zoe," Book said, even as he eased away from the doorway, "everything's fine. The captain's fine."

"I can see that," Zoe said evenly. Mal was on his knees puking into the toilet. "Back away," she repeated.

The shepherd-fellow she didn't know edged toward the doorway to the library. Zoe flipped the knife in her left hand over into throwing position. "I can take all three of you out before you could get two feet," she told them icily. The brother froze and raised his hands.

"Really, Zoe," Simon said, his hands twitching nervously up. "Mal's fine. He's just having a little reaction to the medication I gave him."

Zoe reached the bathroom doorway, glancing away from her prisoners just long enough to check out the interior. She stood at an angle, so she could cover the three, and yet still see Mal, out of the corner of her eye, on the floor beside her.

"Sir?" She queried during an interlude in the retching.

He rocked back on his heels, grabbing for a towel to wipe his mouth. "Uck… Yeah, Zoe… Stand down. It's all right."

Low, she asked, "What the hell is going on here?"

She waited patiently, eyes and gun never straying from Book, Simon, and the brother, while Mal returned to another bout of retching.

"Can't you tell?" Mal asked when he'd recovered enough to talk. "Simon's working his doctoring magic on me. Curing me of being crazy."

"Yes, sir. Seems to be going really well," Zoe said. "And the preacher?"

Mal reached the sink, on his knees, and started some water running. "Figures to conquer the 'verse. Wants us to help," he said.

"Of course, sir. We'll get right on that," Zoe said coolly.

The water stopped. Mal sank back to the floor, leaning against the doorframe, his head resting against Zoe's leg. "Really, Zoe. I'm all right. Put the gun down."

"Yes, sir." Hell, no.

* * *

Mal groaned. Why the 他妈的 was Wash never around when Zoe was big with the disobeying his orders? He tried to get up but couldn't manage it. He felt like six different kinds of 狗屎. 

"Ah, hell… go ahead and shoot 'em, then, if you're so set on it," Mal muttered. The alarmed squawk from Simon was a thing Mal would cherish for many a day to come. Almost made up for this misery. Yup, Zoe'd repeated that little conversation to Mal.

"You three," Zoe ordered, "turn around. Face that counter and stay still." Mal wished he could see Simon's face.

Zoe slid down to squat beside Mal. Setting the knife down on the floor, she reached over to feel his forehead. "You're hot," she whispered.

"Stuff made me sick," Mal whispered back. "As is plainly evident." He sighed slowly. "But I think I ain't crazy anymore."

"I'll be the judge of that," Zoe whispered sternly, adding, "Jackass."

"What?"

"Getting yourself into situations like this without backup?" Zoe whispered angrily.

Petulantly, Mal muttered, "Didn't think I needed armed backup to chitchat with a preacher."

"And yet…" Zoe glanced over at him, her eyes playing over him with concern. Somehow it made him feel better. "What's going on?"

In a low murmur, Mal recounted the events, including the fear he was going well and truly crazy. "So Simon did his tests and came up with this cure which led to me puking my guts out and you threatening to shoot two preachers and a doctor." He paused and blinked. "That sounds like the set-up line to a joke," Mal added.

Zoe scowled at him. "Can't think of any punchline except to call you a jackass again." She studied Book's back, then glanced again at Mal. "What did you get out of Book? And what's this about conquering the 'verse?"

Mal wiped at his forehead and tried to decide if he needed to puke again. His equilibrium was still shot to hell. Didn't think he could get to his feet yet, but if he held still it wasn't too bad. Leaning against Zoe helped.

"Okay," Mal whispered, "so Book's telling me how he's been using us all this time to scout out the 'verse for this preacher's Knights Templar underground secret society thing he's got going on, and…" He stopped as Zoe turned to stare at him, mouth open, eyes wide. "What is it?"

She seemed to be having trouble speaking her piece. "Knights Templar?" she whispered. Mal nodded. Loudly, Zoe asked, "Treasure? Is there treasure?"


	36. Chapter 36: One Down

**Blue Sun Job: **_One Down_  
靑日 Job: _One Down_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 36 **

"It occur to you this is one of those 'I'll tell you but then I have to kill you situations'?" Zoe murmured close to Mal's ear as she moved to sit beside him at the long library table. Mal just gave her a long, dark look. It had occurred to him.

It had occurred to Simon, too, if the boy's level of nerviousity was a thing to judge by. Or he was still scared Zoe was gonna shoot him. Or that Mal would tell her too. She hadn't exactly put away the gun. Mal didn't like repeating orders so he hadn't told her to again. Zoe'd obey the first order when she was good and damn well ready to. Her head was working a helluva lot better than his at this very moment, so best not to try to override any paranoids she had going on.

But, then, it might just could be Simon's pale twitchies were on account of him having to add Shepherd Book to his oh-my-god-who-are-these-lunatics-I've-gotten-tangled-up-with list. Then there were the other creepy guys in Shepherd suits filing in to take up seats around the table.

Well, okay… normally Mal wouldn't find 'em to be all that creepy, just annoying and preachery-looking. It was just that whole 'verse turned on its gorram edge and nothing being what it seemed thing what gnawed at a fella's peace of mind. His serenity…

Mal took in a big gulp of air and rubbed his temple.

"I could give you something for that, Cap…" Simon began, then chopped it off abruptly when he saw the glare Mal gave him. "Right." He stared down at the table, blushing again. It was a good color on him. "But I will be needing to run some additional tests later," Simon said firmly.

Good boy, Mal thought, though he favored Simon only with a "you asshole" scowl. Stick to your guns and don't back down. Well, you know… less'n someone would shoot you for it and it's really better to back down. So maybe that whole 'stick to your guns' notion as an operating principle wasn't the most… Mal shook his head and rubbed his temple again. Not quite fully anchored in the 'verse yet. Zoe shifted her chair back and closer to his--getting a better angle, a quicker path to action if needs be, Mal observed. But it also served to press her leg against his. Warm. Solid. An anchor…

He really had to stop thinking that way. Enough fuses already sizzling down to their ends without him lighting any more. Mal shifted away. Zoe took her eyes off the creepy guys to give him a long, studying examination. It took all Mal's willpower not to break that long, probing stare of hers. He'd gotten that look more'n once in the past, always when he had done, was doing, or was about to do something monumentally stupid.

Mal's glance flicked away from hers to take in the setting. Yup. Okay. This did have all the hallmarks of a major stupid waiting to dump a load of 狗屎 all over him. Yet, oddly enough, at times, that could be fun too.

_Let's see,_ Mal threw a pondery glance around the table, _we got us a preacher who was using us to scout out the dregs of the 'verse, a whole bunch of freaky religious types who fancied themselves a secret society of ancient warrior knights, a basement full of illegal guns, a bunch of criminals with a ship full of stolen platinum… hey, throw in a crazy mind-reading, time-seeing fugitive girl and her asshole doctor brother, a philosophizing mercenary, a jealous husband, and a whore and you got yourself a party._ Mal glanced back at Zoe with a faint grin. And he was worrying on how a little innocent comfort-like touching might seem.

* * *

It didn't pass Book's notice that both Mal and Zoe waited for him to take a drink of the tea he'd poured out before tasting their own. They weren't exactly subtle about it. While it did faintly amuse him, it also stung, and that surprised him. He'd grown accustomed to their trust. 

When had things changed in how he looked upon them? Ah, yes… _"It's good to be home…"_ The captain had gone to a place he abjectly feared--an Alliance cruiser--to save Book's life. Then he'd brought Book back home to _Serenity_ and let him remain even with the hanging questions unanswered. Trust. Trust now in the balance. Oh, not that they genuinely thought he'd try to poison them, nor drug them—at least he believed so, uh… _hoped so_—but they were making a damnably clear statement to Book that Things Had Changed again between them.

While the other brothers settled into their seats, and the refreshments were served out, Book studied the tabletop, phrasing his own thoughts while he analyzed what Mal's and Zoe's must be.

"Captain. Zoe," he said, low, to them. "Whatever happens here, you are free to go as, how, and when you wish. I have absolute trust in your discretion. And you have my word, no repercussions."

The two shared one of those long, communicative looks of theirs. Almost telepathy between them, Book thought, as he watched them silently speak to each other. Such a long and thorough understanding, each of the other, that words were simply not needed many a time. And yet he now knew there were secrets they did hide from each other, and from themselves.

"All right, Preacher," Mal answered for them. "We believe you." He leaned back and sipped the tea more casually, though he still scanned the room with a tense wariness.

Zoe eased up her grip on the pistol, shifting in her seat to a less 'ready for action' stance. As she did so, Book noticed she moved her knee so it just barely came into contact with Mal's leg. Mal gave a barely perceptible sigh and relaxed. _"You lead, I've got your back,"_ is that how they had told the tale? Yes… Zoe ordering Mal to lead while she watched his back. Book smiled softly, the puzzle pieces of this pair suddenly slipping into place. Zoe _ordered_ Mal to lead… So that's how it worked. Zoe wasn't a blind follower at all, never had been. She recognized and supported Mal's strengths, while also recognizing and guarding against his vulnerabilities. _I've got your back…_

Book found himself studying Zoe more closely. Hmmm… she might not say a word, but Book suddenly knew that if Zoe went along with it, this little plan might just stand a chance of succeeding.

* * *

Simon gulped half his cup of tea before he noticed the little paranoia-play between Mal, Zoe, and Book. He glanced half-panicked into his cup, then he saw Mal and Zoe relax and drink their own. A year as a fugitive, a year on _Serenity_ and Simon still didn't possess a fraction of Mal's and Zoe's level of suspicion. He wouldn't have lasted a week had he not stumbled into the path of these people, Simon decided. 

But what, now, of Book?

Leaning back in the carved seat, Simon sipped his tea more slowly as he contemplated the situation. An intense conversation was taking place between Book, Mal, and Zoe. Naturally, Book appeared to be doing most of the talking while Mal put on a nefariously skeptical air and Zoe wore her blandly unconvinced, but deadly-if-the-wrong-thing-was-said, look. Yet, somehow, the unheard discussion must have struck some positive chord with that suspicious pair for the Captain noticeably relaxed—at least as much as was possible for him while surrounded by this many religious types—and Zoe finally eased her grip on the pistol, laying it on the table in front of her.

Good. Good, Simon thought, feeling his own tension level ease a touch.

And just as everything seemed to be settling into a sort of boardroom type of—well, 'normalcy' was a stretch, but at least a type of familiarity that Simon could embrace—a last Shepherd entered the room and the world turned cockeyed in an instant. Punctuating that instant came the loud click of the hammer of Zoe's pistol.

Zoe's hand didn't hold the pistol. Stock still by the door, the late-to-arrive Shepherd stood gazing down the barrel held rock-steady in the captain's hand, then up to his icy eyes. The Shepherd, Simon noted, did not appear shocked, nor even alarmed, to find himself on the business end of Mal's gun. Instead it seemed to Simon he looked solemnly sad.

Breaking his eyes from the Shepherd, and the gun, Simon threw a sharp glance at the captain. In an instant the tension had rocketed to full altitude again. _Serenity_ was such a misnomer, Simon thought with a sudden burst of dismay. Now what!

With Zoe's pistol in hand, the Captain got to his feet faster than Simon dreamed he could move in his condition. Dead-level aim—and Simon knew how dead-level Mal's aim could be—square on the last of the Shepherds to enter the library chamber.

Frozen with his hand on the door handle, that Shepherd stared not at the gun menacing him, but at the Captain. Almost hurting his neck as he snapped back and forth between Mal and the Shepherd, Simon could see the Shepherd recognized death as a mere hair-trigger pull away. Even at that, the man looked utterly cool and unafraid. Simon's gaze darted to Book. Were they all like that? What the good gorram… What the good gosh kind of preachers were these?

Or were they preachers at all? A shiver of doubt went down Simon's spine.

A string of low cussing, half Chinese, half English, wholly threatening came out of Mal.

"Sir, are you crazy?" Zoe asked flat and low, staring up at him.

"Told me you were gonna be the judge of that," Mal said evenly, the gun barrel never straying from the Shepherd. The Captain gave a slight jerk of his head, directing Zoe's attention to the Shepherd in question.

Simon saw Zoe's eyes go dark with the deadly look that reminded him she, too, was a survivor of Serenity. The other Serenity. The one that scarred deep and forever. If anything the look she fixed on the Shepherd at the end of Mal's gun barrel was even deadlier than the Captain's. Deadlier in a far more frightening way.

"You ain't crazy," Zoe announced after a span of about five breaths, each obviously forced into evenness.

"If'n you wanna do him slow, I'll just hobble him a touch," Mal said. The gun barrel twitched slightly. The doomed Shepherd didn't so much as flinch.

Like all the others around the table, Simon didn't move; couldn't move.

"You won't kill him, Captain," a calm voice inserted. Book. It was then Simon managed to focus enough to notice Book appeared utterly unperturbed by the sudden dangerous turn of events. He took a sip of his tea and Simon saw it was with genuine calm, not forced.

Mal didn't turn from his target yet Simon knew he managed to look at Book at the same time. A warrior skill, Simon decided. "You aimin' to stop me somehow?" Mal demanded.

"No," Book said. "But you're not going to kill him. Zoe isn't either," he qualified, "certainly not before you know why he's appeared at this little gathering."

* * *

Gorramit! The preacher was right. Mal reckoned he weren't likely to kill this demon in a Shepherd suit outright. At least not until he knew the whys and wherefores of this pile of 狗屎 being at this creepy conclave. 

Gesturing with the gun barrel, Mal waved the evil Shepherd to the open seat opposite him. "Sit. Hands flat on the table," he ordered. Carefully, he eased back down into his own chair. Doc's drugs and their aftermath had him more than a mite unsteady still. Without losing aim, Mal handed the pistol back to Zoe.

"Talk," Mal snarled.

A grim smile twitched the Shepherd's face. "Nice to see you again," he commented dryly.

"Can't say the same," Mal countered. He flicked the briefest of glances at Book. "Care to explain what this… this…" There just weren't words in the 'Verse strong enough to say it. Mal filled the gap with gritted teeth and radiated hatred. "… is doing here? And just why it is you are so gorram unsurprised by this development."

A semi-babbling insert from Simon asked the questions more clearly. "What…!" Who…!"

Book began, "Brother Sand…"

"Sand," Mal cut him off sharply. "As in 'sinking sand'."

"Why, yes," Book answered, raising an eyebrow with a touch of surprise.

"Hmph," Mal said, rolling his eyes. "Fitin'. On account of he's going down."

After giving him a long, disapproving look, Book went on, "Brother Sand came to our Order, as many did, from other lives. Lives we've chosen to leave behind. Our belief in forgiveness…"

Leaning forward toward Book to emphasize his words, Mal said, "This 他妈的 bastard ain't left nothin' behind. Ain't leaving nothin' behind. And I don't _believe_ in _forgiveness_. Not no more. Not for his kind. You and your creepy lot of secret society preachers can try what you want against us, but that one—" He jabbed his finger at the 'Shepherd' "–is not leaving this room alive."

Very softly, in a voice meant for Mal's ears only, Book asked, "Then why haven't you already killed him?" Mal flicked a sideways glance at him. Louder, Book challenged, "_Guard your steps when you go to the house of God; to draw near to listen is better than to offer the sacrifice of fools; for they do not know that they are doing evil._"

"What…?" Simon inserted again.

A wicked smile crept over Mal's face. "Best you back up a chapter there, Preacher."

Book scowled.

"You started in with the Bible quoting, so you do it right," Mal said. "You quote at 'em a chapter earlier. Go on," he nudged. "Chapter four, and give 'em the first three verses."

Book shook his head with sad dismay, but Mal thought he saw that perverse twinkle of humor in the man's eyes yet again. "All right, Captain," Book relented. He quoted, "_Again I saw all the oppressions that are practiced under the sun. And behold, the tears of the oppressed, and they had no one to comfort them! On the side of their oppressors there was power… And I thought the dead who are already dead more fortunate than the living who are still alive._"

"Ain't that the plain truth," Zoe whispered.

Finally Mal saw a reaction in this evil excuse for a Shepherd sitting across from him. "Strike a nerve, there?" Mal asked.

"We were following orders." The evil Shepherd finally spoke.

"What…?" Simon tried again. Mal cast a quick glance at him. None of the other Shepherdy types seemed to be in doubt as to the nature of this little confrontation. They all just waited patiently. Patiently… sure. Mal recognized that type of patience. He'd seen it on battlefields.

"That _Shepherd_, Doctor" Mal grated, shooting a glance at Simon, "was one of the Fed guards at that prison they locked us up in after Serenity Valley. That _Shepherd_ hisownself, with those oh-so-holy hands of his pulled the trap to drop a young… a little gal…" Why couldn't he finish the sentence?

Ever steady, Zoe finished for him. "They hanged a young woman, a private, shortly before they finally released us. On the anniversary of Serenity." Still in a monotone, but measurably more icy, Zoe added, "This one did it. And he looked us straight in the eye when he pulled the lever that ended that girl's life."

The bastard had the grace to drop his eyes and shift uncomfortably. Mal and Zoe stared at him, waiting. Finally, he spoke, "There comes to some a moment that changes their life. Changes their heart and soul. I think you understand that. Understand what it is to come to such a point."

Mal didn't even blink in acknowledgement. Gorram right he knew. He'd chit-chatted with Book the past couple days about such very things. If this demon in Shepherd's clothes believed Mal or Zoe would be swayed by the notion he was a _changed man_… well, he had bigger problems than just deluding himself about God's mercy and forgiveness.

Mal said nothing. Zoe said nothing. Book said nothing. Simon twitched but said nothing, though Mal could see he was itching to stick his two coppers worth in.

The silence gnawed at the ex-Fed Shepherd, Mal saw with a hint of satisfaction. He only wished he could make the bastard squirm in misery as long as he'd done the same to them and theirs.

The evil Shepherd said, defensiveness crawling into his tone, "That girl was caught red-handed and you know it."

The silence thickened in the chamber.

"We had no choice," he said. "We had to hang her."

Silence.

"Orders…"

Mal only stared.

The defensiveness appeared to crumple and the Shepherd said in a lower voice, "That was my moment of change. My moment of realizing I couldn't be what I was any longer."

"Saw the light then, didya?" Mal asked in a flat, black way.

He looked up at Mal. "You don't know it, Sergeant—" His eyes flicked to Zoe and the unwavering pistol barrel. "—and you, Private, but we had the two of you dead-to-rights too. I figured you had an escape route—the one you just used to get back in to the Blue Sun treasury—and I also figured you two for that guard that went missing. I knew what he'd done to you, Private," he glanced at Zoe, "and so I covered up what I suspected, what I knew, as best I could." He leaned forward. "I was a changed man after that day." He fell silent.

Mal let the silence hang a long moment. He blinked once.

"You done speakin' your piece?" Mal asked.

Plainly confused by Mal's continued coldness, the evil Shepherd nodded.

"Good, on account of I was getting weary of listening," Mal said. "You got any final prayers you want to say, you say 'em quick. Zoe…"

Simon burst in with, "For God's sake, Mal! You can't shoot a Shepherd!"

Mal threw a brief, dark glance at Simon. "That ain't no Shepherd." Turning toward Zoe, Mal spat, "Shoot him."

Only two jerked at the gun's report, Simon, and the now-corpse-that-had-been-a-Shepherd.

Taking in the stony faces of the other Shepherds around the table, Mal turned to Simon's shocked (but not as shocked as he would have been six months ago) expression, to Zoe's grim but contained look, to Shepherd Book gazing up at him, Mal asked, "So, still want us in your little club?"


	37. Chapter 37: Plan B

**Blue Sun Job:** _Plan B_  
靑日 Job: _Plan B_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 37 **

Mal ruttin' well _knew_ all them Shepherds weren't traipsing around unarmed. No fellas with that much hardware stashed in the cellar, and more'n a few secrets they was intent on keeping, relied solely on the dubious protection of the Almighty. In his mind he marked the most likely to be packin' and watched 'em extra close.

He backed up a bit to get himself free for action while Zoe tried to cover near a dozen of 'em all at once. Oddest durned thing was, Mal had a twitch of a notion he could count on Simon during the fight. Not that he could count on the boy for much, but Mal was still fair certain which side of the impending tussle Doc'd be on, killin' of a Shepherd taking place in front of his face or not. Now, where stood Book?

Actually he still sat, lookin' for all the 'verse like that 他妈的 Shepherd had just spilled his tea, and not his brains, all over the fancy carpet. "Hold, Brothers," Book commanded. He spoke quietly yet with a brooks-no-argument firmness. The Shepherds poised for action immediately eased off. Mal had the notion Book weren't the head honcho of this conclave, and no reason to think different now, but he still held a good and solid sway over the others. Number two man, maybe.

Book stood, moving with deliberate slowness, Mal noted. For a preacher he sure did know how to handle violent situations. Had to ask about that some time. Always did seem to know whether to pick a spot of violence of his own, bluffing threats, or soothing Preachery-ness. For hisownself, Mal always did seem to pick the one that most pissed the other fella off all the more. Kinda like executing the Number 12 Shepherd.

"They have my vow of safety here," Book told the other Shepherds. "I've given my word they're free to leave if, when, and how they choose." The immediateness of the situation instantly dissolved, the other Shepherds settling back into their seats, no longer threatening to Mal and Zoe. Gorramit! This whole dealing with folks what had that 'sense of honor' thing goin' on definitely had its perks.

Book turned to Mal with a wry expression. "I would, however, appreciate an explanation about why you decided to murder Brother Sand. A vengeance killing isn't exactly your style."

_I got a style?_ "Weren't 'murder'," Mal said flatly. He turned and shared a long look with Zoe. Much said, no words. She uncocked the pistol and in unison they sat. Zoe set the pistol down on the polished wood and leaned back in her chair. To the untrained eye (which at this table Mal suspected meant only Simon) Zoe appeared relaxed. Mal knew better. She remained on full alert. Mal reached out with one finger and slid the pistol toward Shepherd Book. Words could only say so much. Doin' was the real, powerful way to speak.

Leaning back in his own seat, Mal played his eyes over the gathering. They were all fixed square on him. "That ain't no Shepherd," Mal repeated. "Maybe we shouldn't'a oughta shot him. Be more fittin' if he went out and hung himself, but I weren't betting on him being obliging that way." He gave the remaining eleven a good solid look in the eye, each in turn. "You boys got yourself a weed in your lily patch."

Book frowned. "You're saying he was a spy?"

Mal nodded. "Sure as 狗屎. Fed spy right smack dab in the middle of your not-so-secret-anymore society." He leaned toward Book to emphasize his point. "Alliance got a pin in you boys, no denyin'."

"How do you know?" Book asked. Mal took note of the fact that Book wasn't particularly doubting Mal's assessment, only asking for more information. Somehow that bit of outright trust almost gave Mal a twitch of the warm fuzzies. You know… almost.

Zoe answered for Mal. "His timeline was wrong. There's one we took a personal interest in keeping track of." She gestured to the corpse still sprawled where it landed. "And that one was top of the list. Then he up and vanished. We always figured someone else got to him, or he reckoned he had some serious Browncoat enemies on the loose and decided to vanish."

"Either way," Mal went on, "He flat-out lied right here and now." He glanced around at the others. "You fella use some of your fancy gadgetry and connections to check," he ordered.

Book gave a nod to the Shepherd Mal had tagged as being the fella most in charge—maybe base commander hereabouts. Sure enough, that one directed several of the others to remove the body and search the dead Shepherd's stuff.

Letting out a slow breath, Mal shared another long look with Zoe, then an equally communicative look with Book. Hell's bell, Mal thought, for a shiny couple of minutes there it appeared they might just have a way and means to hook the 'verse by the tail. Allies who had money, means, respectability, and—best of all—weren't out strictly for themselves; who wouldn't betray them for a shiny credit, or just for the sheer spiteful hell of it. And, he had to admit, a chance to smack back at the Alliance in a serious way. Of course it all went right straight into the crapper. Mal knew God didn't much like him, but sometimes it seemed like the whole rest of the 'verse was in cahoots, too.

Sometimes Mal just felt purely put-upon.

* * *

It amazed Simon how calm he could be in this situation. Practicing trauma medicine surely accounted for part of it. The other part, no doubt, came down to the bizarre unreality of… well, _his life_. Before he stepped onboard _Serenity_ Simon Tam hadn't dreamed people such as Captain Malcolm Reynolds existed outside of schlock drama plays and cheap novels. He might have to read more of those cheap novels, he considered. They clearly had more than a grain of truth to them. One that absurdly came to mind had been called "Space Pirates and the Reavers of the Belt." Damn! Simon thought. He could write that very story now. That book probably wasn't unrealistic pulp fiction at all—it was a documentary. Or propaganda? 

Then it occurred to him that such subtle infiltrations into the root culture of the Core planets might, in fact, be by intent. Could they be deliberate actions to impart information to those thoroughly under the Alliance's control? Undergrounds. Secret societies. There were more things afloat in the 'verse than were dreamed of in the Alliance's designs. The Independents had been crushed—he glanced at the captain—but not obliterated.

It was also very much not lost on Simon that he'd also just witnessed a precise demonstration of the very thing he'd asked Zoe about when he was new on the ship. "…if he tells you to kill me?" "I kill you." He'd known all along that was not an idle claim on Zoe's part, but to see it in action…

Simon gulped and controlled himself. All of this did reinforce the idea he had to continue to equivocate where the captain was concerned. He hadn't exactly lied to them his first day on the ship, but he also hadn't exactly told them everything. And the things he hadn't told Mal…

Glancing around, Simon wanted to curse the fates vigorously for this shiny opportunity Mal and Zoe had just lost to them all. He'd seen the equipment these Shepherds had, the drugs and medical supplies, had scanned over some of the materials and research at their disposal, and spoken to a Shepherd who had been—before he was a Shepherd—an Alliance research scientist in an area akin to that which had been inflicted on River. So much might have been accomplished here, with them! That is, had not Mal told Zoe to shoot one of the Shepherds.

"_That ain't a Shepherd._ Another echo. Somehow Simon could not bring himself to fully doubt Mal was right. The man may be a fool in a lot of ways, but in the area of survival he had keen insights. In that case, Mal hadn't lost them the opportunity. It was already lost and he'd saved them from stepping into a trap.

Simon had started to think of _Serenity_ and her crew as something more than an expedient. The ship had become something he almost dared think of as 'home'. And this tangled mismatch of a crew had become colleagues, companions, confidants, and even in hints of moments—dare he say it? No. As he looked at the captain Simon knew it was best if he pulled back. At best, Simon was crew. The ship's doctor. It wasn't a terrible thing to be on a ship captained by Malcolm Reynolds (In the broad general sense, Simon qualified to himself. Day to day it could be more than trying). Mal came back for crew. He protected his crew. But crews came and went. Hired and fired. Simon was crew. Not family.

* * *

"So, what was your notion?" Mal asked Book abruptly once things had settled down and the corpse had been removed. "What exactly was it you wanted from us? Seems to me we don't exactly fit into this little crusader scenario of yours here no how, no way." 

Book had had an entire carefully prepared pitch he'd planned to use. There was going to be history, philosophy, appeals to honor and duty, and even a hit of nobility in it. The bloodstain on the carpet somehow made all that seem foolishly excessive. The captain was a quick, blunt man who didn't care for prevarication—or more bluntly put, he didn't take 狗屎. Well enough, then.

"Guerrilla warfare," Book told him bluntly. No lead-in. No subtlety. "The sort of hit-and-run raids you do on some of your 'jobs', but on occasion we'd ask you to do ones targeted to our ends. I know you have familiarity with that sort of thing both during the war and since. Also smuggling. And theft."

Mal nodded assent. "Sure. That makes sense. You boys wanted someone to do the dirty work, the _sinful_ work so you all could keep the blood off your saintly hands."

"A harsh assessment," Book said, then admitted, "but you're not wrong." He leaned forward toward Mal and Zoe, folding his hands together on the tabletop. "Many of us left behind lives we very much don't want to revisit." Book saw the bright question mark light in Mal's eyes and gave a quick don't-even-think-I'm-going-to-tell-you smile in answer. "Think of it as the alcoholic who dares not take a single drink for fear of the excess it leads to." He sighed. "Coming onboard your ship gave me a fair taste of exactly what that's like."

With a sincere, though slightly wicked, grin, Mal said, "I reckon I know what you mean there, Preacher. You weren't on my boat but a day when you'd punched out a lawman and threw in with criminals. Aided and abetted."

Book didn't smile in return. Very seriously, he said, "Yes. And that troubled me deeply. More than you know."

"Sorry, Preacher," Mal said softly. "Didn't meant to go diggin' into old hurts." Book saw Mal flick a meaningful glance at Zoe. "Been more than enough of that going around lately."

_And more to come, son,_ Book thought sadly. All he'd learned of Mal, Zoe, and their past had yet to come to full boil, with them, or with Zoe's husband. Maybe it could be stalled off for a time, but inevitably, their history together would impact their present, and their future.

"It's all right," Book said. "It was a thing I had to come to terms with." He studied them very seriously. "Just as you two have to come to terms with all the things we've been discussing these past few days."

Neither gave the slightest indication they had any notion what he was talking about. It was this control and ability to compartmentalize, Book realized, that was both their greatest strength together, and one of their most fundamental weaknesses.

Pointedly shifting subjects back, Mal said, "Don't see how us few on our puny, unarmed ship could make a speck'o dust's worth of difference pulling off a few raids on your account." He shook his head. "Pin pricks. Even what we did there at Blue Sun's treasury… Big damned score for us. To them, not even a decimal point disturbed in their accounting books. Naught but a pin prick."

"Enough pin pricks, in the right places, will bring down an elephant," Book told him.

Mal leaned back in his chair and worked that over thoughtfully. "I ain't never seen an elephant," he said, "but I surmise your meaning. I did once see our Angels take out an Alliance cruiser. Prettiest damned sight in the 'verse when the core of that thing finally cut loose.

"Well," Mal went on after a moment obviously reflecting on the long past, and ultimately futile, Independent victory, "Assuming we had decided to play your little game, what would have been in it for us?"

Book smiled broadly. Trust the captain to shove all that pesky nobility aside and get down to the bottom line. "Money," Book said.

That tweaked Mal's interest. "I did recall mention of a treasure. Knights temple treasure…"

"Templar," Book amended. "And it's not literal. It's not a pile of gold hidden somewhere."

"That is a pure and sorrowful disappointment," Mal cut in.

"But," Book put in forcefully, "Think about the treasure you have onboard right now. The Blue Sun platinum. And think how you got it. Resources. That's the real treasure. Information. Research. Intelligence. Data. You managed the Blue Sun job by having the information that let you get into there and out again."

"We got caught," Mal said flatly.

"Not for the Blue Sun job," Book countered. "But even at that, you getting caught? Where are you now?"

"Down a gorram rabbit hole," Mal muttered, looking around the Sanctuary's underground chamber. "Scary crazy rabbits."

Book ignored his comment. "Where you're _not_," Book emphasized, "is in an Alliance prison. Resources got you out and clear. The ability to tap into the Cortex, and Alliance records, military and legal. One wave from me and not even a record of your conviction was left. Some—many—of those resources were mine."

Mal sighed. "No denying you saved our sorry behinds," he said with a hint of sadness. "And I am grateful for that. Ah, hell… You know well enough I got no problem makin' some mischief for the Alliance when and how I'm able. So that part's shiny. And having intel what might get us into some fine scores would also be a jim dandy thing. Ain't no discounting the pluses of having friends what could shelter us who ain't always looking to put their hand in our pockets, nor slit our throats, too. But Preacher," he leaned forward and Book saw his face go utterly sincere and serious, "We lost that gorram war and it cost us dear. There ain't no more Independents government or… Well, there ain't no more Independents _nothing_ left. We couldn't win against the Alliance when we had worlds, and ships, and factories, and armies. Now all we got left to us is a handful of malcontents like myownself and we're too gorram busy trying to stay under the radar and outta the clink to do much of anything the Feds would take note of. I ain't lookin' to fight that war again. If we couldn't win before, we got less than zero chance now."

Book waited a moment to reorder his thoughts to deal with this very accurate assessment and objection. It was, in a way, heartening to know that Captain Reynolds, with his entrenched fondness for tilting at windmills, did so with the basic realism that's what it really was.

"Mal," Book said quietly, purposely using his name in a familiar way. "Our plan isn't to take down the Alliance at all."

"Then what the gorram…?"

Cutting him off with a wave of his hand, Book said, "You're right. There are no Independents as any sort of cohesive force anymore. Eliminating the Alliance would leave a vacuum and likely worse would fill the void. The Alliance isn't evil."

"Now that I take issue with," Mal said fiercely.

"The intent isn't evil," Book revised himself quickly. "But elements within the Alliance are. Evil. Deeply so. And that's our aim, to root out the evil portions."

Mal appeared to be considering all of it. He finally shrugged. "Fine. I guess that ain't too terrible an aim, all things weighed in earnest. And seeing as your timeline looks to be roughly _eternity_, I reckon I might have considered signing on. You know, assuming there was a clear profit in sight and no notions of us embracing the religiosity or such." Book had to grin. "'Course that's before everything went to hell in a handbasket," Mal added, glancing at the bloodstain. "Can't say I think much of your holy intel to let an Alliance mole lurk right in your midst."

"If he was," one of the brothers put in harshly. No love lost between Mal and the other Shepherds so far, Book noted glumly.

"He was," a voice from the door countered sharply. Three of those sent to investigate Brother Sand came back down into the chamber. Book noted a firmness and resolution in their steps he suspected concealed outright, unChristianly murderous fury.

"We got into his private files," a brother said. "He was working for the Alliance all along, sending in reports. Blast!"

Mal smirked in an I-told-you-so way. "Hope you boys thought to put evacuation plans on your agenda. 'Cause this place ain't safe no more."

"We did, and will," the brother said, sounding irritated with Mal. He glanced around at the other Shepherds. "But we have some time. His next report doesn't appear to be due for another week."

Book saw Mal perk up. "He weren't reporting constantly? Good. Look like he send in anything on us?"

The Shepherd shook his head. "You're in the write-up, but it wasn't sent."

"Damned good," Mal said.

"But," the Shepherd went on, "Your last visit here—to leave off the doctor and his sister—was noted and transmitted."

Book saw Simon flinch. "Were our I.D.s included?" Simon asked.

"Doesn't look like he knew exactly who you were, nor that you are wanted by the Feds," the Shepherd said. "Fortunately he had to be extremely circumspect in his activities and that inhibited his ability to investigate. All he appears to have reported was a man and his young sister were dropped off by a ship named _Serenity_. No other details."

"That's a relief," Simon said.

Book saw Mal roll his eyes. "Ain't but a temporary reprieve, Doctor" Mal said. "It's another chunk of data for the Feds to add up, all spelling an unpleasant ending for us. Throw in another missing Fed agent tied to our boat…" He trailed off, rubbing his eyes. "We gotta run harder and faster than before." His face was grim. Zoe's too. "Nothing never goes our way for more'n a span of a heartbeat," Mal said, low.

Reaching toward him, Book laid a hand on Mal's arm. "Mal, agree to join us. We can help. I can help. Those information sources… I can connect you with the best in the 'verse."

He looked puzzled. "In case it ain't caught your notice, Preacher, your little nefarious club here is done for."

Book laughed richly and deeply. Mal scowled at him. "Oh, Captain… this is a setback, without a doubt. But surely you should expect more of me by now." He grinned at the captain. "Mal, there's _always_ a Plan B."


	38. Chapter 38: Shadow

**Blue Sun Job: **_Shadow_  
靑日 Job: _Shadow_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh f-ck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 38 **

"Well?" Mal asked out of the long silence. They sat side-by-side on a bench in the shade of an expansive apple tree, its limbs hanging heavy with ripened fruit. Mal's arm stretched across the back of the seat, not quite touching Zoe. The feeling of being comfortably at ease with her, though, was back in force. It was so dang peaceful sitting here with Zoe. He didn't feel no need for chatter nor fretting. At least not just this very minute. Wash was off doing whateverthehell Wash did with _Serenity_. Piloty stuff. Then he heard a rushing sound. The shadow of a shuttle passed overhead. Oh… docking Inara. Back from her whoring already? So the religious nuts on this world stuck with violence, thieving, and espionage and didn't monkey with gals. 'Cause, you know, that'd be a sin.

Shepherd Book was off either being preachery or nefarious. Or both. That whole line had blurred way the hell beyond recognition, Truth to tell, Mal preferred it that way. He liked Book well enough with the whole mysterious thing going on, but he did have to admit, having the whole dark secret thing turning out to be so very dark and so very secret and so very... purely gorram wicked, just made Mal want to up and kiss the preacher right on the mouth. And kissin' on the mouth weren't nothing Mal took lightly. Not no more.

A faint chuckle escaped Mal.

"What's funny?" Zoe asked.

"Uh... just watchin' the kids play," Mal lied, gesturing to the game nearing them on the sloping glassy lawn. River and Kaylee played a rules-known-only-to-them game of tag around a bemused and laughing Jayne (who probably just liked watching pretty girls bounce about) and a grinning Simon who liked seeing River happy, Jayne bemused, and very likely enjoyed watching Kaylee bouncing, too. Mostly Simon like seeing a happy River, though.

Having drawn attention to the romping crew, Mal had to pay them more mind. A fine sight, it was. Good enough to have some measure of joy come that little girl's way. A little peace, however brief. They'd be into the fire again soon enough, whether they took on the preacher's secret war or not.

"Ain't you gonna ask again?" Zoe said.

"I figure you'll answer when you're good and ready," Mal answered. The 'discussion' had been going on for an hour or better between them, yet scarcely two dozen word had passed. Didn't need to talk to follow the track of Zoe's cogitations. She was chewing it over but good. Mal weren't so much. He was just waiting to see which way the wind would blow. Pondering an' calculating wouldn't do nothing useful. He reckoned he'd make his call right exactly when he had to and it would be the call he'd make whether he fretted and fussed over it or just outright decided in an instant. And at this very minute he didn't know quite which way that answer would come out.

"Yeah," Zoe said blandly. "You're in, so I'm in."

"I ain't said I'm in," Mal said.

Zoe just shrugged. "But you are anyhow. So I am too."

"Well... fine," Mal said and so it was settled. At least for this very minute. Always a fly in the ointment. "You talkin' for your husband there, too."

This silence was less easy and smooth.

"Can't do that.," Zoe eventually said.

"And if he ain't in?" Mal persisted. "If he says 'no'?"

"He won't say 'no' 'cause I ain't figuring to ask him," Zoe said.

Mal gave her a long look which she studiously refused to meet. "Uh, huh," he said slowly. "Sounds like a great gorram plan. Just reckon you'll spring it on him as a surprise? Or you 'spect me to do the asking? 'Cause, you know, that would go just swell."

"Not figuring neither," Zoe said. Then she turned and looked sharply and probingly at Mal. "This has to stay between us. You can't bring in Wash, Kaylee, nor Jayne into this. Especially not Jayne."

"Mmm…" was all Mal said, turning away. He let out a long sigh. "Especially not Jayne," he echoed. "Don't gotta ask how you weigh in on that subject."

"He's been doin' right fine," Zoe said stoutly, almost defensively, almost like she had a soft spot for the big galoot. But Zoe didn't have a whole lot of soft spots and Mal reckoned she wasn't like to waste one of her few on Jayne. Still, she sounded to be roaming the neighborhood of fond when she said, "Gotta give him credit for the way he pitched in on the rescuing of us in this last little adventure. Almost like to trust him."

"But," Mal punctuated for her.

Zoe's eyes melted into his. Nah, more like 'burned' into his. "But he can't be allowed to leave _Serenity_."

"Alive," Mal finished the sentence. Mal turned back to watch the crew play on the lawn, Jayne laughing with them.

"Not since River came onboard," Zoe said. "Then Ariel. Throw this in on top…" She trailed off with a shrug. "Can't take the risk. He came onboard by way of treachery. If he looks to leave, well, it's like to be by the same means. Like or not, it is the way it is."

"So why not bring the others in on this?" Mal asked. "Most notably, your husband?"

Zoe was quiet a long time. Finally, she said, "Time will come when you'll ask them to make a stand. Just like it was at…"

"Serenity," Mal filled in softly. Doc's crazy drugs out of his system or no, an army of ghosts still shimmered at the edge of his vision. They were never all that far off at the very best of times. Another thing that just was the way it was.

"…and it will be their lives you're telling them they have to put on the line. And they will or they won't." She glanced at him again. "I'm betting they will. Jayne included. 'Cause when you do that kind of askin' it's on account of it being the real moment—the all or nothing moment. But until then, no. Ain't right to put the burden on 'em. Especially when a 'no' answer is not an option."

"Yeah," was all Mal said by way of response, lapsing again into silence with Zoe. She was right. Question like this… Couldn't risk a one of them saying 'no'. When you lead in such a situation you just don't ask that sort of question, don't demand that sort of commitment, until you know with dead-on certainty what the answer will be, what the answer _has_ to be. Zoe was right, as ever. The moment would come and he'd make 'em choose. And when that moment came, they'd all come through. 'Sides, it might get Kaylee all upset again if'n Jayne said 'no' and Mal had to kill him, cause sure enough, the one certainty was Jayne couldn't be allowed to leave _Serenity_, not knowing as much as he knew, not already having betrayed them.

"Big damned secret to keep," Mal commented, watching the girls run squealing after each other on the sloping lawn. Jayne's laugh carried to them on the breeze. Simon threw himself down on the grass, appearing almost relaxed.

"Not like it's the first," Zoe answered in a way that said to Mal she meant a whole helluva lot more than the subject at hand.

"We'll have you knowin' and me knowin'." Mal itemized the list, also meaning a whole helluva lot more than the subject at hand. "Lots of practice keeping secrets there," he added dryly. Zoe tossed him an irritated sideways glance. "Book, of course, who already knows everything, and then some" Mal said. This time Zoe's glance contained a probe of questioning. She was onto the notion Mal weren't just talkin' on the subject at hand. "But he'll keep his own council. Part of the job description. And Simon. Doc, there, is pretty tight when he wants to be. Got his own gorram set of nefariouses he's clamped down on."

Mal shifted a bit on the bench. His arm slipped down on the back just a touch so it barely brushed Zoe's shoulders. He didn't move to break this mite of contact. An apple thudded to the ground. Mal watched it roll a ways down the slope. His eyes lifted. River danced in a twirl around the others, her skirt—it was blue, he noticed—billowing out. Her hair in flowing curls. It put him in mind of something… Someone…

"Can that many keep a secret?" Mal asked, still staring an River. He added very softly, "Especially from your husband?"

Zoe was staring at the kids, at River, too. From the corner of his eye, Mal could see her brow furrow in concentration. Beneath his arm he felt her shoulders tense.

"You don't ask such a question until you're sure of the answer," Zoe whispered distractedly.

Mal didn't push for more. Zoe was plumb scared that at this juncture Wash would say 'no' to the whole gorram silly notion, maybe push Zoe to the point where she'd have to choose Wash over Mal. He scowled. She was even more afeared of what her answer would be; how and which she'd choose. Mal let the notion thunk down inside his gut. She so very, very much weren't the only one.

River started singing as she danced. Hints of the song drifted to them. A familiar tune. Mal squinted and listened hard, trying to catch bits of it off the breeze.

"I'll be damned," he muttered. Zoe cast a question-mark glance his way. "Gorram mind-time-reader-girl yonder… I was pondering on what was so familiar in that little dance of hers." He flicked a faint grin at Zoe. "She's dancing just exactly like you was, 'round that bonfire on Shadow, the very first time I ever laid eyes on you."

Zoe didn't respond, but Mal felt her studying River more closely. Abruptly she asked, "Why'd you decide to keep River on the ship? In the very first place?"

Mal shrugged. "Said before, we needed a medic. Her and Simon were a package deal."

"That ain't it," Zoe countered, still fixed on River. "Weren't the doc made you decide. It was River. And it weren't just to annoy the Alliance. It was River herownself."

With a small sigh, Mal admitted, "Yeah. That first day, when she was laying there in the infirmary… So… Broken. Fragile, like a puff of wind could carry her off. Little girl, so helpless, lookin' like…" He trailed off, unable to put into proper words what he'd felt, what he'd thought, that day looking down on lil' River. Clearing his throat, Mal said more firmly, "Couldn't stand the notion of another little girl lost. Not if I had any say in the matter."

He didn't look at Zoe. He didn't need to. She was staring at River. Hard. Her breathing came loud and measured like she was fighting some gorram battle right while sitting here still under a tree in a peaceful, pretty spot. Mal could almost hear Zoe putting the pieces together, like taking bitty chunks of a blown-up apple and putting 'em back together. All the scattered and smattered little bits…

"You…" Zoe started and stopped. "You see River…" Mal couldn't recollect ever hearing her voice sound more hesitant. Zoe turned and fixed a solid look on Mal. "You see River as _her_." Mal clenched his teeth and didn't meet Zoe's eyes but he could feel them cutting into him. "You look on River like a daughter," Zoe said, sharp and clear. "Like our…" Her voice failed her.

Mal had to glance down and away. The grenade goes off and that there pretty little apple blows right up in your face. Gorramit. After all these years, after all this time and lives and loves come and gone—torn away, ripped away, burned, blown up, destroyed, killed—how could such a small, distant thing, a tiny spark didn't last but a day before she was lost and gone, still hit so hard and hurt so much?

"No," Mal said dully. "Not no more."

"But you did," Zoe insisted.

"Yeah," Mal said, low. "Then. For a moment. Looking down on River, I could see _her_. She looked just like her…" Clearing his throat, Mal amended, "Like how I see that she'd look if…" Throwing Zoe the briefest of glances, he asked, "Surely you seen it?"

Zoe still stared at River, shaking her head slowly. "No," she said, her voice strangely small. "I didn't. Not a bit. I can now. See how you saw." Her voice turned harsh. "Gorramit, Mal, why didn't you say something?"

He snorted. "Why? Ain't like we got enough ghosts hauntin' us that I aim to be digging up more, especially when you're good to keep 'em well buried? Ain't my place."

"You… you think about _her_?" Zoe's voice sounded more'n passingly peculiar.

"Not always. Not often," Mal answered frankly. "Just now and again." He wasn't sure what made him add, "Don't take but a moment's thought to count it down to the day."

He felt Zoe do the math and knew it didn't take her but a moment either. How many times had she done that over the years? Had she ever done that before?

"She'd be right about River's age," Zoe said softly, a trace of something rare in her tone.

Mal finally gathered the gumption to glance again at her. "Just about," he said. Holy他妈的 hell! Was that a tear running down Zoe's cheek! Every alarm in Mal went off at once. Claxons blared in his head. Zoe didn't cry. Zoe never cried. The 'verse abruptly turned completely cockeyed on edge and Mal suddenly couldn't find gravity; couldn't turn it to right.

"Zoe, you ain't cryin'?" he asked. More urgently, Mal said, "You don't cry. I ain't never seen you cry." Even more sternly, "Zoe, you never cry." It was an order. _Stop it, Private_, the sergeant demanded. His resolution crumbled as another tear ran down Zoe's otherwise rock-still cheek. "You didn't even cry the day we buried our little girl," he said, surprised hisownself how flat and even his voice came out.

A sob—a _sob!_—broke from Zoe. River froze her dance in mid-twirl and stared at them. That made the others turn their way. They didn't, couldn't, have heard the sob. They were too far away. But mind-reader gal sure enough did. Mal panicked. Grabbing Zoe hard around the wrist, he dragged her up, 'round the bench and away toward the Sanctuary buildings.

Around the back of a low stone building, into a small courtyard that looked onto a dark, wooded ravine, Mal towed Zoe. She didn't resist. She didn't help. He was wholly in charge of steering her. He wanted to knock her flat to smack some sense back into her, make her get a grip and be the cool, controlled person she was supposed to be. The one he _needed_ her to be. The one he leaned on, Mal abruptly realized. 他妈的. How much load did he really put on Zoe without ever knowing he was doing it? The long, shared looks without words? The quiet, steady presence? Even the sharp pricks of sarcasm? Zoe was his gorram rock in the 'verse when all others failed him and now she was sinking and he didn't know what to do about it.

Parking Zoe, sobbing in earnest now, on the long stone bench, Mal perched awkwardly beside her. "Stop it," was the most comforting thing he could think to say. Good God, Mal thought, then sharply cut the fragment of genuine prayer off short before it could go anywhere.

"Zoe," Mal said urgently, trying to figure out how to hold and comfort her without actually touching her. She got him through a bad night—hell, more'n one—on this last job and in the mess after, and now he didn't know how to return the kindness. "Stop it. That youngun's long gone and all the tears in the 'verse won't bring her back." 他妈的! Fuck! 他妈的! That was just exactly and precisely the wrong thing to say. Then he remembered… she'd just lost another little one just days ago. Claimed it weren't nothing but a couple of cells gone before it was ever real, but all the same… it was real.

"Zoe." Mal's voice took on some of Zoe's sorrow and his own grief started to surface in sync with hers. Stop it, he told himself. He reached an arm awkwardly around her, trying to hug her without actually hugging her. Carefully, he patted her hand, struggling to find right words to speak.

"Our child is long gone. Even if she'd lived beyond that day, she wouldn't have lived beyond…" Mal started, then realized this track was no better. She'd have burned when Shadow burned. Just as he'd come up with something better, something not too horrible, a new voice cut into the situation.

"What the hell is going on here?" Wash demanded.

Mal glanced up and groaned. Every gorram one of them stood across the courtyard, staring at Mal and Zoe with their mouths gaping open. Heard every damned word. 他妈的! Fuck! 他妈ing great. It was hard to say which one looked the more shocked. Well, not Book. He just looked grim and sad. Simon? No, there was a solemn knowing on his face. River? Crazy mind-reader girl was crying along in unison with Zoe. Kaylee? Stunned, but also sorrowful. She leapt from shocked to sharing their grief in an instant. Jayne? Yeah, all right, he was just picturing Mal and Zoe gettin' naked together and it was interrupting his attempt at more honorable thoughts.

Inara… yup. There was the pure shock. Oh, yes indeedy.

And Wash. Leapt right beyond the shock into red-faced fury.

"Get your hands off my wife," Wash ordered.

Mal carefully disengaged from Zoe and stood. "Wash, you gotta know…"

Hadn't known Wash could move that fast, nor hit that hard, Mal thought a moment later as he spat blood onto the paving stones beneath his cheek.

Mal stayed down. Easing carefully into a sitting position, he rubbed his jaw while he fought the urge to flatten his pilot. Somehow it didn't seem like to help the situation. Not much, anyhow. He threw a glance at Book, who gave him the slightest shakes of his head. All right, not at all.

Climbing to his feet, Mal stayed back out of Wash's range. Wash was trying to be wholly fixed on Mal, but the sobs coming outta his wife kept pulling distracted glances from him toward her. Yeah, Mal thought, he's mad as hell at me, and maybe her, but at the heart and soul, that's a man what loves his wife. Was it total and unconditional? It damned well better be, 'cause that's what his Zoe deserved and not one iota less.

"You get one," Mal snapped, holding out a hand to keep Wash at bay as he staggered to get his balance. "Try another and you'll be the one on the pavement bleeding."

A shuddering breath came out of Wash. "You!" he sputtered. "You and my _wife_! This baby she just lost. Harken said it was yours and I didn't believe him. That you two had been… In that hotel… On the job… You told me you two _never_… But that baby was…"

"Don't you even finish that sentence," Mal said, ice cold. "Else you won't live to regret it. It's the pure truth. Me and your _wife_… Never." He let out a small sigh. "You know gorram well this lost little one was yours and yours alone so don't you ever dare even think otherwise or I will see you sent to hell." He dropped into silence as he glanced at the sobbing Zoe. "Me and your wife, no. Never. Me and a gal named 'Zoe'… Well, that's a whole 'nother story."

"A story you kept from me," Wash said with a snarl. Then he appeared to crumple a bit in the overwhelmingness and confusion of the situation. "And there was a… another… you two did have a…"

Mal grimaced. It was a lot to have dumped on the fella in one big dose. "A child," Mal finished for him, low. "A little baby girl. Long ago and far away. Didn't live but a day." God! Just saying the words was like taking a shot to the gut. After all this time. He glanced at Zoe. For her to have held that in all this time. She'd pushed him to talk out troublesome things yet she kept in more and deeper.

Wash's own eyes looked all melty wet as he raked his hand through his hair, making it stand up every which way. He turned from Zoe to Mal and back again, like he was deciding which one to deal with. "I'm gonna kill you," he told Mal, but Mal didn't hear the cold sincerity in the words that said he meant it. Well… maybe he did, Mal allowed, making sure to keep a measured distance between them.

"Wash, you jackass," Mal hissed at him. "Don't you get it?" Obviously not, Wash's puzzled yet renewedly angry glare told him. It was a gift he had, Mal considered, to be able to take a situation that was winding down and re-up the killing urge. A dubious gift. His sergeant/captain tone came out as Mal jabbed a pointing finger toward Zoe and he said, "Your _wife_ is sitting there grieving over the loss of her child. Children. Crying. That's something I ain't never seen her do. So you put your own sorry-ass hurt feelings away and do as a husband for your wife."

It tweaked him right enough. Wash darted deciding looks between Mal and Zoe. Holding his breath, Mal kept his defensive stance as he waited for Wash to make up his mind. Then Wash was on the bench, wrapping his arms around Zoe with no awkwardness at all. They meshed. Blended. Fit together. Wash murmured soothing things to Zoe—the right kind of words, the kind of words Mal hadn't been able to come up with—and she buried her face in his chest.

Mal let out a slow breath and turned away. His entire gorram crew stood like statues, watching the entire damned drama-play. Without meeting their eyes, Mal pushed on through and strode rapidly out. No one followed him, for which he'd thank Book later.

Out of the shadows of the Sanctuary's buildings and canopy of trees, down onto the sunlit, grassy slope, Mal marched rapidly. He had no direction, no destination. Anywhere would do as long as it was _away_. For a half-assed moment he considered taking _Serenity_ and leaving everything and every-damned-one behind. Wouldn't help, he realized, and also realized it was Shepherd Book's quiet counsel talking in his head. What he was, what he'd been, the life he'd led… it always came along for the ride. There was no leaving. Nowhere to run away.

Stopping stock still, Mal stood listening to the quiet. Absorbing the heat of the sun. Tasting the clean, fresh air. Feeling the… the serenity of this place. Serenity… and yet there'd been a killing. There'd been a fight. There'd been… Nowhere to run away. Every 他妈的 thing that was in him, came with him. He'd been slipping lately. Going soft. Had to put an end to that.

Slowly Mal sank down on the grass and buried his face in his hands. Had to. The fight was still there and always would be. Never would be the warm fuzzies come to stay. Not with Malcolm Reynolds. Not never. Like as not he'd be losing Zoe over this. Wash. Hell… Inara sure as 狗屎, like she weren't lost to him already. All lost… like that little one so long ago…

**Years before. On Shadow…**

Young Mal Reynolds dropped off his horse even before it slid to a dusty stop. He froze mid-stride on the steps of the ranch house as a long, high scream issued from the inside.

"Good God Almighty," he muttered, staring at the house wide-eyed.

"This ain't no time for blaspheming," their preacher's voice came sternly from the shadows of the covered porch.

Mal shook his head slowly, still staring at the house. "Weren't blaspheming, Preacher," he said. "That was just the very best I could aim at the Good Lord at that very minute." He glanced at the preacher. "That was Zoe a'hollerin' in there," he half-asked, half-said.

The preacher nodded, his face looking less stern. "The child's coming."

"It's too early," Mal said. He glanced from the door to the preacher and back. "Doctor?" He eased step by step up onto the porch.

"He's with her, doing the best he can," the preacher said. "Not much, I'm afraid. We don't have the resources…"

"A ship?" Mal cut in rapidly. "Her daddy's ship could take her straight to one of them fancy Core hospitals. We get on the Cortex and hail them…"

The preacher shook his head. "We're too far out. You know it. That ship has no medic, and couldn't get anywhere in time. That why her daddy left her off here. Even Shadow has more and better." He sighed. "No, son. All that's left is for us to pray."

* * *

"She's so tiny," Mal whispered. Zoe heard the awe in his tone as he looked down into the cradle. "So perfect," he added reaching a finger down to trace the child's cheek. 

Zoe frowned at him. It didn't do for him to go getting too attached, not when 'tiny' and 'perfect' were purely at odds with each other.

Mal looked up at Zoe, studying her long and carefully. No, Zoe thought, he truly wasn't deluding himself in thinking this infant could survive. It was something else… Hope. Faith. Belief. She felt her own wall crumble a mite at the warm feeling of his assurance.

"Could call the preacher back in," Mal said quietly, "and get us properly hitched. This little one deserves no less."

Just shaking her head, Zoe said, "No. Piling one mistake onto another ain't gonna put anything to rights. Your preacher baptized her in your faith. I reckon that's sufficient ticket of admission to heaven for her."

Mal gave her the look what spoke clear as bells he wanted to argue the point with her, but he had the good sense not to. It was the other part of what she said, that this child was bound for heaven in a short span, she saw eatin' at him.

"Ain't over," he murmured, gazing back down into the cradle and looking all solemn and melty. "With the Almighty the impossible is possible." Whispered words of prayer came from him as he gently stroked the child's cheek.

He truly believed it and for a moment Zoe wished she had a measure of his faith too. She hated like hell that this little pup and her daddy were tugging at her heart-strings so. She just didn't want it so. Unbidden, and silently, she echoed Mal's words.

* * *

The long nights of Shadow had never seemed longer to Mal. The golden-red glow of the gas giant waned into true darkness before the dawn touched the world. In the darkest hour, Mal looked across at Zoe. Elbows propped on the rough table, she rested her forehead on her folded hands. Lamplight lit her face as she stared down at the Bible. He weren't sure if she even saw the words he'd laid open for her, but he knew. In her hand she held a plain silver cross on a fine chain. It had been her momma's, she said. 

Elsewhere in the ranch house, Mal could hear the murmur of voices, and people moving quietly about. But no one approached this little room. This was a night this mite of a family had to do for themselves. Just him, Zoe, the Good Lord, and this tiny spark of life. Maybe it all started as a sin, but at this very moment, he couldn't see nothing but a goodness alayin' there.

"She looks like you," he said.

"More like you, I'm thinkin'," Zoe commented. Mal glanced back up at her. He didn't realize she'd even looked close at the baby. She'd been so avoidy, like she was afeared to see it or touch it lest it vanish before her eyes. He glanced back down. As well it might.

Not 'it'. _She_. "Should oughta give her a name," Mal said. Zoe only shook her head. She was struggling, Zoe was, with believing, hoping, praying… faith. Two lives were struggling here this night, Mal thought. No, he amended, three. Looking at her, bent over the Bible, not crying, not even really seeing, Mal realized there was a connection between them that would never die; could never be buried. He looked back down into the cradle. The angels had come. The child wasn't breathing anymore.

* * *

Mal knelt at the little gravesite, the pure light of the slowly rising sun casting a long shadow from the tree over the far-too-tiny mound of earth. The words he prayed choked him in his throat. God would understand. He knew what was in the heart. 

Something sparkled at the corner of his eye. He glanced up to see Zoe's silver cross dangling from its chain before him. It spun, catching the sunlight as it turned.

"You can have this," Zoe said, her voice cool and harsh.

Reaching out, she let it drop into his waiting palm. "This means something, you know," Mal said. "Faith. Hope. Trust. Promises made and fulfilled... Love." Mal opened his mouth to say more, stronger things, then closed it again. Now weren't the time. He nodded, his vision blurring as he closed his hand around the cross. Zoe wore white. Pure white of mourning, the only outward sign she gave. She hadn't cried when they'd stood together as the final words were spoken, the last shovelful of dirt dropped, the last of the others drifted away.

"No, it doesn't," she said, looking away from him.

Zoe turned away. Mal wanted to stop her. He could hear her daddy's ship engines winding up, ready to take her away into the Black. "I'd have been true to you," he said. She turned back to regard him. He stood, glancing once more at the tiny grave. Moving to her, Mal took her by the shoulder and turned her toward him. His hand left a smear of dirt on the white, he noticed, oddly disturbed by that. "Still would. Still will. I'll never betray you," he added. "If you just have faith."

"I've got nothing to have faith in," she said. "None of it means a damn thing." Her words were cold, but the pain in her eyes was a thing Mal could see clearly. He pulled her in close, to comfort her, to hold her. Instead she wrenched herself away, out of his arms.

"Zoe…" Mal said, hearing for himself the hurt in his voice. "I will be true to you."

"I don't believe you," she said. Weren't just him, he realized. Everything was behind those words.

"Some day you will," he said. "Time comes you need me. I'll come. You can count on me. Forever"

"You won't see me again."

Zoe stared at him a long moment, the gave a small shake of her head. Pulling away, she strode rapidly off down the slope. When she reached the flats, she broke into a run. Mal squeezed tight the cross she'd given him.

As he watched the ship's ramp swallow her up, Mal whispered. "Yes, you will."

_

* * *

_

One chapter to go...


	39. Chapter 39: Into the Black

**Blue Sun Job:** _Into the Black_  
靑日 Job: _Into the Black_

* * *

Chinese: No critical dialog using actual Chinese characters, just exclamatory expressions  
他妈的 ta ma duh fck (used for all variations)  
狗屎 go-se crap **

* * *

Chapter 39 **

"Go away, crazy girl."

"You're not Jayne," River informed him, sounding a mite irked.

More than a mite irked, Mal glanced up. "Glad you know the difference." She stood over him, too close and pointedly blocking the sun.

"Jayne's the only one who calls me 'crazy girl'," she insisted.

Scowling at her, Mal said, "Yeah, well… I think it."

River smiled and it was like a gorram beam of sunshine itsownself. "I know," she said smugly.

Blast that girl! Mal rolled his eyes. "Go away _River_," Mal tried again. He pointedly thought _Go away moonpie, nutjob, whacko._ River didn't go away. She just grinned more broadly.

"You find me pleasant enough," she informed him as if sharing a profound secret, then suddenly found a strand of her hair utterly fascinating. Mal groaned. "Could be useful on jobs," she commented distantly. She speakin' for him? Or for herself? Hard to gorram tell. "Knows things in advance. Can see trouble before it happens," River said, still engrossed in her hair strand. "Like on the Blue Sun job… she knew to send just the right size battery with you. 'Course it could be coincidence, but she could be handy."

Crazy, crazy girl… Mal thought as loudly as he could. Go! Away!

She did have a point, though.

Ah, hell. Not like to be any more jobs after this point, not with this crew. Without Zoe and Wash, Inara, Book… This getting attached to folk… never a good thing. Made a man weak. Best they all leave. Still, without Zoe… Zoe wasn't crew. She was something else entirely. She was… Hell, he didn't know no more. He just knew he didn't want to feel nothing for none of them.

"Want to be a stone," River said hollowly. Mal glanced up at her. She stared blankly off into space. Why in the gorram hell could she read something like that buried down deep yet couldn't get a plain GO AWAY? "Can't leave Serenity," River said, then cocked her head as though she'd said it wrong. "Can't leave _Serenity_," she repeated but with different emphasis. Mal couldn't suss out which Serenity she meant and didn't have the ambition to try.

Suddenly lucid, River stared down at him. "Won't leave _Serenity_," she said quietly, in a sympathetic tone. "They won't leave." She smiled at him. "They're waiting for you. Best you go now," she added firmly.

Fine, Mal thought, struggling to his feet. _I'll_ go away.

As he strode away across the lawn, Mal thought he heard River softly behind him. "Won't leave, Daddy. No one will. Not alive."

Sometimes he didn't find River pleasant at all.

* * *

He'd more'n half expected to find the whole gorram lot of them waiting for him at the ship, full of questions and 'helpful' commentary. Instead, only Book and Zoe waited by _Serenity's_ ramp, lookin' like they'd been having some powerfully meaningful talk of their own. Zoe even gave the preacher a sound hug. How 'bout that? 

No Wash in evidence. So… the holdin' and comfortin' 'tween Wash and Zoe degenerated into a squabble after Mal left. Wonder how long it took? Minutes? Or seconds? And where did matters stand? Did he still have a pilot? A first officer? Any gorram crew? What did that expression Zoe aimed at him mean? Did it mean anything?

Zoe straightened as Mal neared, clasping her hands behind her back. "Sorry, sir," she said tersely, "that I lost control in such a way."

Mal gave her a dirty look. "Stow that crap, Zoe. Well enough all that's finally out in the open—" Exactly whose bright idea was this in the first place? Oh, yeah… his. "—though the ways and means of it weren't exactly the best. Ain't that so, Preacher?"

Tilting his head, Shepherd Book gave a small shrug. "'Not exactly the best' is exactly right."

With a scowl, Mal said, "There's them deep and meaningful insights I've come to rely on."

Book gave a faint chuckle. "Then try this one: Wash is inside. You need to go in and make things right with him."

"Me!" Mal exclaimed. "Why the hell should I? I ain't the one married to the ruttin' fool."

"Sir…" Zoe stretched out the single syllable in a way that made Mal feel he'd just been more thoroughly chastised than any other time in his whole miserable life.

"Why me?" Mal persisted, half way to an outright whine. "I ain't the one bunking with him, and don't much want to be."

"Much?" Book raised his eyebrows with that cat-in-the-cream look of his.

Gorram Preacher had way the hell too much sense of humor for Mal's own good. Perverse, it was. Mal gave him a right solid glare.

Cussing with vigor but not much in the way of creativity, Mal finally wound down and studied the toes of his boots for a good long while, but neither Zoe nor Book had the courtesy to say nothing more. They just waited on him. Waited him out. Sure. Fine. They'd got their minds all made up how this oughta play out and weren't like to let his petty little 'hell no's get in their gorram way.

"What the hell you think I can do?" Mal demanded. "I ain't no marriage counselor. And I ain't a part of Wash and Zoe's marriage." He jabbed a finger at the preacher. "That there problem is pre-jactly what _you_ was supposed to fix when we started these little talk-talk sessions with you. So you fix it."

Book's face went serious and thoughtful on him. "This is the 'fix', Mal," he said quietly. "The problem isn't you. And it isn't Zoe. And it isn't Wash. Nor is it you and Zoe, nor Zoe and Wash—"

"This is getting' to be like a gorram math problem," Mal grumbled.

"And you have to do the math," Book insisted. He let out a small sound of exasperation. "Zoe—" he nodded toward her "—is perfectly able to balance between the two of you, between the two men in her life. It's remarkable, but she manages complete loyalty to both of you without internal conflict. It may seem odd to outsiders…"

"And husbands," Mal muttered.

"…yet she's found the balance and maintains it. For herself," Book added.

"But." Seemed to Mal like he'd been doing a lot of that sort of punctuating for other folk lately.

"It's you two, you and Wash, who keeping trying to topple things for her."

"I ain't trying to do no such thing," Mal protested. "I just wanted a pilot. It was her dumbass notion to marry the… Ow!" He cut off with a yelp as Zoe smacked him. Hard.

Book ignored the interruption. "You and Wash are the ones who have to achieve a balance, an understanding, between the two of you. So _you_, Captain, have to go work out the situation with Wash."

"Just exactly what the 他妈的 am I supposed to say!"

"Tell him what was," Book said. "What happened and why, and what has been since. Be honest. Be sincere. And for once in your life, don't hold back."

Mal groaned extravagantly. He could get another damned pilot. Then he made the mistake of glancing at Zoe. Her face was completely blank, completely bland… or so any other person in the 'verse would have thought to look upon her. Any other person but Mal. On some occasions he imagined he could see right clear down into her soul. Gorramit, this was one of those times. "Fine," Mal said. Total, complete, abject surrender on behalf of the one he couldn't bear to disappoint, but did. Repeatedly and often. Sometimes in catastrophic ways. Also with the repeatedly and often. Yet the one who never left him. Never wavered. Ah, hell… He reckoned he liked Wash well enough hisownself. He sure as 狗屎 couldn't get a _better_ pilot. "Fine. But you come with." Mal jabbed a finger at Zoe.

She shook her head. "No, sir. This is something you gotta do for yourself."

"Fine," Mal repeated, giving up. "But I gorram well want a copy of that damned do 'n don't gotta do for myself list of yours," he snapped at Zoe. He straightened and stared up the ramp into _Serenity's_ cargo bay. Rather 他妈的ing face a gorram Alliance gallows. With all the enthusiasm of that thought to sustain him, Mal trudged up toward _Serenity's_ cargo bay.

"Captain," Book's quiet voice made him pause. Reaching up, Book handed him a bottle. Mal gave it a glance, then gave it a sharper look. This weren't no cheap Blue Sun liquor here. This was damnably fine aged whiskey. "Found it with Shepherd Sand's belongings. Our Alliance spy had good taste," Shepherd Book said ruefully. "At least some good's come of it."

Mal gave a nod and an overly dramatic sigh and headed on in to the impending battle.

* * *

Wash stared into the wood grain of _Serenity's_ dining room table without really seeing it. He didn't look up as he heard the approaching footsteps on the stairs and in the aft corridor, even though he recognized them perfectly well. No, wretchedly well. 

As Mal walked in, Wash glanced up. "Short straw?" he asked.

"Pretty much," Mal said. He thumped the whiskey bottle down on the table, snatched two more-or-less clean glasses from the counter, pulled out a chair opposite Wash, and sprawled out on it.

"Figure getting me drunk will make everything all better?" Wash asked. How calm he sounded! Not at all like he'd just been kicked in the gut which was exactly how he felt.

"Might could be," Mal said, "Ain't figurin' anything I'd care to say is like to penetrate that thick skull of yours." He poured out two full glasses, shoving one gracelessly toward Wash. It sloshed over onto the table and onto Wash's hand. Almost like Mal was trying to annoy him even more. No, there was really no 'almost' about it. Bastard.

"Okay," Wash said after a few gulps of whiskey—good stuff! He twisted the bottle around, studying the label, amazed Mal would waste such fine liquor on him. "Okay," Wash repeated, taking another gulp. "So get on with telling me how it isn't what I think and how you and Zoe were thinking of me the whole time."

"Hardly," Mal snorted. He held his glass to his lips a moment, pondering. "In point of interest, _thinkin'_ weren't never exactly on the agenda."

Wash stared at the captain. "Wow," Wash said incredulously. "You really suck at this."

"Don't recall a whole lotta that on the agenda neither," Mal commented. He added thoughtfully, "More's the pity. Bet she's good at it. All powerful, and focused. You know?"

It doesn't matter how fine the grade of whiskey, it gorram well _stings_ when you snort it out your nostrils. "Yes," Wash sputtered. "I do know."

Leaning forward, elbows on the table, Mal asked intensely, "So, tell me about it. How is she at the, you know, the sucking?"

Wash gaped at him. "Are you insane?"

Mal shrugged. "That there is a whole 'nother area of contention. Come on… it's been a helluva long time since Zoe and me had with the…" He made a graphic hand gesture. Wash almost fell off his chair as he stared, open-mouthed. Horrified and, yeah, sure, a little intrigued by Mal's approach to what Wash believed was a delicate situation. Apparently Wash was alone in that belief.

Stumbling and stuttering, Wash managed to get out, "Captain… Mal… You're supposed to be comforting me and assuring me that whatever happened in the past—which was only _once_ and you were both drunk so you took advantage!—is far, far past and it never happened again and you'll both regret it until the day you die. And let me emphasize the _only once_ part again."

Mal didn't even blink. "That the kind of pretty colored smoke you want me blowing up your ass?"

"Yes," Wash blurted. "And when you say it don't use words like 'blowing' or 'ass'."

Mal still didn't blink. It was scary weird how he could do that, Wash thought, fighting to hold the stare.

"You wanna hear about how I went to virgin-pure Zoe, got her drunk, climbed on and took advantage," Mal said, so very chilly. "That it?"

"Yes."

With a dark chuckle, Mal said, "I'm thinkin' you got your whole who's-on-top scenario upside down there, son."

* * *

From the corner of his eye, Mal could see Zoe and Book making their way slowly and silently down the aft corridor toward the dining room. They stopped outside the dining room entry, staying back against the bulkhead. Wash couldn't see 'em hidden by the lip of the door, but Mal could tell they knew he'd seen them. 

Enough of the dainty and comforting prelims, Mal decided. On to the heart of the matter.

Breaking his stare with Wash—who still stared right back in pure astonishment—Mal took a sip of the preacher's fine whiskey and let himself think back on those times long past. Weren't nothin' smutty about it at the time, he considered. Then reconsidered. Well, okay, there was a whole lot with the smutty, but all of it was so shiny and fine and sticky sweet not even the threat of hellfire and damnation could get in the way. What he believed then… What he believed now… Hmph. Didn't give a rat's behind about hellfire and damnation no more but lost the shiny and fine at the same time. Now, was that fair?

"We were kids," Mal said, his tone thoughtful as he remembered back. He bit down on that; changed his tone. This was a gorram battle report. Make it short, clipped, and to the point. "Weren't no more'n sixteen. I was a dumb back-world ranch boy who'd never seen beyond the horizon and she was this blaze of pure light set right down outta the Black in front of me…" Mal went on with the tale of meeting Zoe, telling it straight out, like the preacher said he ought. He told it blunt, but not crude. Wash listened carefully, not interrupting until…

"Oh, my God," Wash whispered. "Zoe was your first, not the other way around."

Mal just gave him a small, knowing smile and went on with the story. He was keenly aware of Zoe listening from around the corner as he told about the unintended youngun come about from their play. He kept it all to the cold, hard facts. No sentimentality. Even still, Mal saw her head drop down and knew she was again fighting that grief she'd held in so long and so hard.

With a dismissive shrug, Mal concluded, "Buried the little one 'neath a tree on Shadow, in the family plot. Parted with Zoe on a bad note. Didn't see nothing more of her 'til in the war." Wash had heard him tell that tale from the recording of the interrogation with Harken. No need to go over it again.

Mal said it all coolly, distantly—which it was, which it ought to be—yet somehow when he gathered the gumption to meet Wash's eyes again, it seemed like the tale of long ago and far away hit far closer and harder than Mal meant it to. Wash looked like to cry hisownself. Mal scowled.

"That's all there is to it. All gone and done long ago. Lifetimes ago. Ain't something we've revisited and sure as sure-as-shit never wanted to," Mal said, trying to gauge Wash's reaction.

"Except today…" Wash let the words trail out in a way that said he wanted Mal to keep talking.

Frowning, Mal let out a slow breath. Very low, hoping his words weren't reaching the two listening in the corridor, Mal said, "There were things… with this last job. With, um… you know, Harken and the interrogation… Hell, you listened to that recording. There was other stuff. Bein' back in that place from so long ago with all the bad stuff gone on there. And then your own lost little one… Just a helluva lot smacked down here all at once and I guess it finally got to Zoe.

"Hence the gorram tears," Mal continued. "That's all it was. Finally too damned much and she needed to open the pressure relief value a turn. Ain't like she's weak. And it don't mean she was thinkin' any sort of fondnesses where I'm concerned or nothing. It don't mean a thing, Wash."

Wash stared at him so long the uncomfortables started to worry at Mal.

"So stop your dumbass, self-centered, _petulant_–" Mal liked that word. "–whining and get the 他妈的 over it." _And that's an order,_ the Captain silently added.

Wash still stared at him. Mal started to count in his head. _…ty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-o…_

"Like you have?" Wash's voice was very soft but a trace of fierceness and anger underscored the tone.

Mal favored Wash with his best exasperated look. "Yes, gorramit. Over. Done. Past. Ain't nothing more to say. Nothing more to tell."

A hint of a bitter smile pulled at Wash's lips.

"So…" Wash stretched out the word. "Dumb ranch kid and a girl in trouble." He leaned forward. "On a border world the preacher tells me leaned toward the proper side of things. Tell me, Mal… Did you marry her?"

Mal jerked a touch. "No."

Wash's eyes went darker. "Girl in trouble. And you didn't step up to do what's right by her? Did you even _ask_?"

Oh, gorramit! There was gonna be no winning this one. No damned right answer. Licking his suddenly dry lips, Mal had to break the staring contest. One. Two. Three… "No."

"You're lying." Flat certainty.

Mal shifted uncomfortably. From the corner of his eye he saw Zoe do the same. An intrigued look crossed Book's face.

Trying for snotty, Mal snapped, "Well, thank you for that insight. You been taking interrogation lessons from Commander Harken? Ain't no lie detector nor truth drugs here."

"Diversion," Wash said sharply. "And, yes. I did learn a bit from Harken and that recording of his sessions with you. You did ask Zoe to marry you."

Squirming a bit, Mal said, "You're wrong. I ain't lying." He cleared his throat and just gorram well knew one of the two in the corridor was likely to break into the conversation if'n he didn't say no more. It was that other word Harken was keen on—semantics. "I never asked Zoe to marry me. I… um… It was, uh, more like I told her the way it was gonna be."

Wash gaped at him again. "You _ordered_ Zoe to marry you!"

Stuttering a bit, Mal said, "Well, it was just… you see, I was… I was a mite on the religious side back then…"

"You!" Raised eyebrows from the entire congregation at that one.

Oh, 他妈的ing great! He really hadn't meant to blurt out that little bit of history. How did his pilot get better at interrogating than a Fed? No way to back out. "Okay, I was really religious back then, and my folk on Shadow had notions of how things ought to be. Propriety. Makin' right on a sinful… um. It's like this, I believed a fella and a gal, that had… you know…"

"You _ordered_ Zoe to marry you!"

Harken hadn't made Mal squirm this much. "You're makin' it sound bad."

But 'bad' weren't so much matching the look on Wash's face. It was more like he was struggling with something gorram big trying to burst outta him. Mal tensed for another slug in the face.

Then, unaccountably, Wash burst out laughing. Mal stared, bewildered. Zoe cocked her head, puzzled. Book… well, the preacher musta got the joke 'cause he appeared to be fighting some serious chortles of his own.

Choking and gasping for air, Wash got out, "My God, Mal. You're a moron!"

"Uh…" Still bewildered. Insulted, but still bewildered. "Huh?" Grumbling, Mal said, "You always wanted to know if she ever disobeyed my orders. That there was the first. The first of a long line."

"A complete moron," Wash said with marvel in his voice. He shook his head, "And to think I was worried about _you_. Did you even tell her you loved her?"

Huh? "I… I… told her she could rely on me. I'd be true…" Mal stumbled over the words. Zoe seemed to be finding the ceiling of the aft corridor awfully fascinating. Book wore a 狗屎-eating grin.

"Have you _ever_ told Zoe you loved her?" Wash insisted.

"Uh… no. I mean it ain't…"

"Well, I can tell that is the truth," Wash said. He leaned forward and peered at Mal. "And do you? Love her?"

他妈的狗屎. "No!" Gorram 他妈的狗屎.

Wash's eyes narrowed. Low and hard, he whispered, "That's a lie."

Mal gulped. Wash couldn't have hit him harder if he'd used Vera to put a slug into his brainpan. The echoes… Harken… the drugs… the craziness… The moment that got him dragged off to be chained in the dark… replaying that moment with Zoe and the anguish that followed… The train job for Niska, Mal saying to Zoe, "Remember I always loved you." Her shocked "Sir!" Part of the job, part of their role playing. What had Zoe really thought at that moment? What had he meant when he decided to remind her of their roles is just precisely that way? And further back… Shadow, with Zoe expecting his very own youngun and him unable to tell her the one thing that woulda got her to make the situation right. Couldn't say it 'cause it wasn't true. _Then._

Darting a glance toward Zoe, their eyes caught and held.

"Well?" Wash asked softly. "I want the truth, Mal. I won't settle for anything less."

A lifetime flooded between Mal and Zoe. Good times—few. Bad times—many. Lives. Loss. Battlefields soaked in blood. Violence. Grief. Absolute trust. Unswerving loyalty.

Without breaking contact with Zoe, Mal nodded. He couldn't make the words come out. Weren't needful. She knew. And finally, gorramit, so did he.

So did Wash. Her husband. Oh, right… the husband.

A long sigh came from Wash, a deep, wrenching sound. Mal broke the connection with Zoe and turned back to study him.

"Zoe won't leave you, will she?" Wash didn't really ask it as a question; said it as a plain truth.

"Can't speak for her," Mal managed to get out, somewhat unsteadily.

"Yes," Wash said. "You can."

With a frown, Mal said, with a certainty he spoke the truth, "Yeah. Zoe won't leave me." From the corridor came no denial from Zoe.

"So, where does that leave me?" Wash sounded nigh on pathetic at that very moment.

"As her husband," Mal said. Suddenly he got it clear. This was what Shepherd Book had been trying to get the lot of them to see. "Don't you get it, Wash? I don't know what you'd call what it is me and Zoe are. Don't know that it's even got a name. But you're the one she married. Hell's bells, Wash…" Mal slammed his fist down on table making the whiskey bottle, and Wash, jump. "I been with her half my life. I depend on her. Lean on her. Need her like no other. Trust her with everything I got and am. I'd lay my life down for her in an instant. Shared a lot of living with her, and a lot of grief, including that lost little one." He flicked a quick glance at Zoe. "But she married _you_. It's you she's looking to have more younguns with. Not me. If anything like that was gonna be between us… Hell, we had us all the time in the 'verse. And we didn't. And wouldn't. And won't. You're her husband. You're the one who's gonna be father to her children. You."

"With you in the package." Wash raked his fingers through his hair. "Welcome to a freaky-ass three-way."

A perverted grin played over Mal's lips. "Seems like a good deal. For you. I get all the violence and bloodshed. You get all the sex."

"There is that," Wash had to admit.

"Of course, a truly generous man would share…" Mal quirked a suggestive look at Wash.

Wash matched it. "If you and I were to take to bed…"

"That ain't what I meant!" Mal cut him off. He had to fight a smile. It looked to work out. Maybe, just maybe.

But Wash's expression darkened again. "Father to her children," he murmured. He looked up at Mal. "You and Zoe will always have that shared between you."

With a hard swallow to bring down his own sudden reaction, Mal said, "Me and Zoe will always have that standing between us. It wasn't meant to be. Don't know how many well-meaning bastards told us that. Hated hearing it then and hate it now. But it's the gorram truth. It wasn't meant to be. It's you she's looking to have more babies with, not me."

"Babies…" Wash peered at him in a way that let Mal see his core fears clean down to his toes. "Zoe wants to. Have a baby. Right here. On _Serenity_. Having it and raising it right on this ship in the midst of the rough 'n tumble. Last time we talked on it—at the Heart of Gold—she said she wasn't so afraid of losing something that she wouldn't try to have it."

Mal focused hard on Wash so as not to look over to Zoe. "She said that?"

Wash nodded. "I thought she was talking in general. You know? On account of her having lost so much. Been through so much."

"No," Mal said. "She was talkin' specific." Zoe had been thinking on their little lost one after all.

"Yeah…" Wash appeared to be letting that sink in. "She knows what it's like and she still wants to try." He met Mal's eyes again. The anger and hostility were gone, replaced by a sense of kinship and understanding. And more than a trace of apprehension. Nope. Outright fear. "What do you think of the notion of Zoe and me having a baby? Here? On _Serenity_?"

Mal held Wash's eyes steadily. He blinked once, twice, a third time, until he could speak without twitch or intonation. "Brilliant. I think it's every bit as good an idea as the two of you getting hitched in the first place." From the corner of his eye, he could see Zoe roll her eyes and shake her head.

Wash didn't take the diversionary bait, though. "I mean it, Mal. It's not just a child who could be lost. We live in a lot of danger. What if something happened to me? Zoe? Both of us? Would you take care of our child?"

"Of course."

Leaning forward, Wash said intently, "I'm dead serious, Mal. I think we've come to terms here, terms I can live with. Mainly in that you're too much of a moron about women to ever be a threat. I do love Zoe and I don't want to tear her apart—make her choose between us. I can't stand seeing her all torn up, and I don't think you're quite enough of a son of a bitch that you can either. I need to know if I can count on you the same way Zoe does. If something happened to me, would you take care of our baby the same as if it was your own?"

Mal blinked down and away, wondering why his eyes suddenly felt wet. Slapping both hands down on the table, he pushed himself to his feet. As he stepped away, he paused. He didn't meet Wash's eyes, nor Zoe's.

"Better," Mal said. "Better than my own."

Without a backward glance, Mal headed toward the forward stairs to get out and away.

* * *

The smacking and bellering led to shouting. 

"Jayne!" Mal and Shepherd Book hollered in unison.

_Smack!_

"What? Gorramit, get outta the way so I can get these walkin' beefsteaks into the cargo bay," Jayne yelled back, still driving the confused cattle toward _Serenity_.

"Jayne, you cannot take the cattle," Book called, waving his arms ineffectively to try to turn the cattle.

Far more effective at it, Mal did turn them before they got to the ramp. When the herding stopped, the cattle put their tails in the air and galloped off toward the little woods and an unexpected taste of freedom. It was gonna be a chore roundin' them up again, Mal considered. As long as it weren't his chore.

"Why-fore didja do that?" Jayne grumbled, stomping up to Mal and Book. "I almost had 'em in."

"You can't steal these preachers' cows," Mal said in his most emphatic you-idiot voice.

"I thought they was havin' a going-out-of-business sale here," Jayne argued. "Doc's practically stripped their med clinic and library bare. And that is a helluva arsenal you and Zoe was totin' back. How come I can't have the cows? Ain't had prime steak in a hound's age."

"Not everyone is leaving," Book said. "Most of the Shepherds are staying. Just parts—" Mal and Book exchanged a significant glance. "—are being removed. The Sanctuary is revising the focus of its mission, you might say."

Jayne eyed 'em both good. "Yeah. That revising stuff all sudden like. Something weird goin' on here. All secretive and such. I wanna know what it is."

"Ain't none of your nevermind." Mal ordered, "You keep your notions to yourself, keep your trap shut, and get on and help the Doc. Git!"

Grumbling and muttering, Jayne trudged away.

Mal turned toward Book. "Sure wouldn't mind doin' some trade for some produce and beef, though," Mal said.

"You'd have to use legal money for that," Book said with a small smile. "Most of the Shepherds here aren't in on the _extra-circular_ activities."

"Difficulties, always difficulties," Mal complained. "What's the matter with Shepherds who don't know how to launder money? Reckon I can come up with some not-quite-so-ill-gotten gains. Or near enough to it. Untraceable, at least. We're right flush now. Don't suppose it looks to last, though."

Book started off walking back toward the Sanctuary's buildings. He gestured for Mal to accompany him. Side-by-side they strode across the peaceful landscape. Peaceful for now, Mal qualified, quickly scanning the sky. The Feds would be showing up here sooner or later huntin' for the spy and sniffin' at their trail. How well could they hide any trace they were ever here? And how fast and far could they run afore the Alliance caught up to them again?

"Nothing ever lasts," Book commented. "Except those things a man carries within himself."

Mal gave a weary sigh. "Sounds like a sermon in the making, there, Preacher."

"I'll spare you the full sermon," Book said with a chuckle. "Consider it part of the counseling sessions."

"Mmm…" Mal pondered a moment. "Speakin' of which, we done with that? We all back to sane and well-adjusted."

Book toyed with the corner of his moustache as they walked. Mal glanced over at him. "Well, if 'sane' and 'well-adjusted' are the goals…"

"Never mind," Mal cut in.

With a smile, Book said, "I do believe you, and Zoe, and Wash are on the path to a sort of harmony."

Mal let the inevitable 'but' go unsaid this time. He and Book settled down on the bench beneath the apple tree. Shepherd Book pulled out a pair of fine cigars and offered Mal one. Mal could tell they were fine on account of they didn't smell nothing like the floor-sweeping stogies Jayne puffed on. More booty from the Fed spy, no doubt.

"No, thanks, Preacher," Mal said. "You know I steer clear of wicked habits like that."

With a deep chuckle, Book said, "Ah, Mal… you always make me laugh."

"I'm a funny guy," Mal said intently. "It's the light-hearted gaiety of my life what makes me so."

Another rich laugh from the preacher as he lit his cigar. He blew out a puff of smoke thoughtfully skyward. Mal studied him as he did so.

"You got something on your mind, Preacher," Mal said. "I can tell. Just say it on out." Book only puffed on his cigar. After a long moment, Mal added, "You're not coming with us, are you?"

Book carefully snubbed out the cigar before he'd even smoked a quarter of it. "Have to ration these," he explained. "They're rare, and to be cherished as such. We can never have all that we want."

"More sermonizing," Mal inserted.

"Counseling," Book corrected him. He gave Mal a soft smile. "My mission on _Serenity_ is done." With a twinkle in his eye as he looked at Mal, Book added, "_One_ of my missions."

Mal shook his head, but did twitch a faint smile. "Always knew you had me in your sights, Preacher."

"What does it say about you that you knew that, yet never dodged away?" Book raised an eyebrow as he asked.

"You've done us a fair bit of good, Shepherd. I am truly sorry to see you go," Mal said. "You've done me a fair bit of good."

"There's a lot been stirred up, Mal," Book said seriously. "A lot of history you tried to keep buried. You and Zoe, both. Don't get mired in it. Don't dwell on it. Try to build on it, to be more open to those around you. Bring them closer. Don't push them away."

Silent a long time, Mal stared out toward _Serenity_. "Don't know if that's the best advise, Preacher. And likely ain't advise I mean to take." He sighed tiredly and rubbed his hands over his face. "Things look to get even harder and tighter from here on out. Even though we don't mean to, we're leaving a trail for the Feds to follow leading to River and Simon. This little fiasco here just adds to the mix. Gotta stay well clear of so gorram many of our old contacts that jobs are getting fewer and riskier. Can't say I was ever on the non-hating side of Badger, but he was good for work now and again. 'Cept now we can't go near him. He seen River. Seen her up close and personal and some day he's gonna see one of them flyers on her. He'll be on that reward faster than a duck on a june bug.

"Then there's Commander Harken and a whole gorram Alliance cruiser we cannot allow to even catch a glimpse of us…" Mal sighed again, feeling the weight.

"Actually," Book commented, "Harken may be the one Fed in the 'verse you can trust not to turn in River and Simon. I dare say he'd even shelter all of you."

Mal gaped at him. "You are crazy. Completely, certifiably…"

"Think about it." Book cut him off. "Harken is the one Alliance commander who absolutely does not want River and Simon found on _Serenity_ and would probably go to great lengths to see to it they aren't. If River and Simon are found on _Serenity_, he's finished."

With a faint chuckle, Mal said, "Yeah. Zoe had the same notion. That he was on our side during this last fiasco. Maybe even covered up evidence of our fugitives found on my boat. Not that I could tell it, the way he was workin' on me. But, yeah, maybe we could bank on Harken. Be pretty funny going to a Fed cruiser for shelter." He quirked a 'hell no' look at Book. "Way my luck goes, though, he'd more likely shoot us on sight, burn every trace, and scatter our ashes to the wind."

"You have such a positive attitude, Mal," Book commented, but lightly.

"May take gettin' smacked down a few times, but eventually I learn the lesson," Mal said. "We're alone, each of us, in a 'verse that aims to break us and kill us. And that's just the way of it."

"You're not alone, Mal," Book insisted softly.

Catching and holding Book's eyes, Mal said, "Don't go talkin' God to me, Preacher."

"I'm not," Book said. _Yes, he was._ "I'm talking about the others. Your crew."

Mal didn't answer. He still didn't have the particulars of Book's past, but like as not he knew a leader who gets who gets too warm and fuzzy close to those whose lives he's putting on the line will make mistakes. Things aimed to get harder and Mal just could not let sentimentality get in the way. Much as he treasured these moments lately—with Zoe. Hell, even with Wash. Holding and comforting Kaylee. Being soothed by Inara. The little crazy girl who danced and called him 'Daddy'. Even Jayne. Maybe Doc. Well, not so much Jayne. It would be easy, so easy, to let that continue, let the feeling of family flow. It would.

Then the parade of ghosts who never fully left him—comrades, friends, family—shimmered nearby again. Bloody. Torn. Burned.

"Sure, Preacher," Mal lied with unblinking sincerity. "You've done talked me onto the path of, well, not righteousness, but of warm family kinship."

_Liar,_ Mal saw flash in Book's eyes, but he had the grace not to say it aloud. Instead he patted Mal's leg fondly. "Just remember it, and think on it, Son."

* * *

Sunset on a peaceful world. Mal stood at the bottom of the ramp and watched the sun set all golden and sweet behind the trees. They'd be back into the Black soon. The hard, deadly Black that gave him the most shiny thing of all—freedom. 

So peaceful… He scanned a last time across the Sanctuary's buildings. Chimes from the chapel sounded through the clear air. Soon would come the tromping of Alliance boots and the clatter of their weapons and the peaceful would be ripped away from yet another place Mal had touched.

Mal turned from the world and strode up into _Serenity's_ cargo bay. All nine aboard. He slapped the airlock and ramp controls, then hit the comm. "All buttoned up," he called up to Wash. "Take us outta here."

The scent of incense drifted down into the cargo bay from Inara's shuttle. Bizarre damned smell on his boat. Rather have the honest stink of cattle in the hold. Wouldn't be smellin' that perfumey scent much longer. Droppin' Inara on one of the more fancified Border worlds. Her face appeared at her shuttle's door, looking down on him like she was awaitin' on something. Mal had no notion what she expected him to say. Night spent in her bed didn't mean a damned thing. Mal felt _Serenity_ lift. He turned away. Eight…

Jayne's weights clanked. He peered up with a 狗屎-eatin' grin as Mal strode by. "So, Mal… You and Zoe really did have with the…"

Scary quick, Mal leaned down over him, pushing one of the weights down until Jayne grunted and alarm flashed through his eyes.

"You comprehend I know lots of ways to kill folk quick." Mal let his eyes flash. "I know even more ways to kill 'em slow. You contemplate on that."

"Didn't mean nothing by it," Jayne grumbled as Mal released the weight and strode away. "Just wouldn't mind hearing the groiny details," he called. Mal chose not to hear.

"Doc…" Mal peered into the door of the infirmary. Simon's lair was packed with equipment and supplies he'd gotten from the Shepherds lab. Even a shiny new exam chair. Mal supposed he'd be finding out hisownself it was more comfortable than the old one by and by, sad to say. Doc appeared happier than Mal had ever seen him—which was damnably hard to tell from Doc when he was unhappier than Mal had ever seen him.

"Yes, Captain," Simon said.

"Get them books stowed." Mal gestured to the piles stacked in the lounge. "We hit a bump they'll be everywhere."

"A bump in space?" Simon echoed with a hint of that three percent scorn.

"Just get 'em stowed," Mal repeated. He felt the quiver as they shifted from planetary gravity to internal. A book slid to the floor. Mal favored Simon with a ninety-seven percent look.

Shepherd Book waited at the bottom of the stairs. His favorite ambush-Mal spot. Mal gave him a nod as he grabbed hold of the railing. Didn't look to be running across the preacher here too much longer. A place called 'Haven' they'd be dropping him at once they were shut of Inara. Nice enough sounding name—Haven—but as crappy a place as he'd ever heard of.

"Shepherd," Mal said by way of greeting as he started to climb.

"Captain," Book said with matching formality.

Two steps toward escape afore Book caught him with, "Mal?"

"Yes, Preacher."

"ECC thirty, twenty-three," Book said.

Mal stared at him a moment. Thirty? Twenty-three. He tilted his head as he tried to do the calculation. ECC thirty? Ecclesiastes? Didn't go up to thirty. "Sorry, Preacher. You got me stumped on that one."

"It's from the Apocrypha," Book said. "Love thine own soul, and comfort thy heart, remove sorrow far from thee: for sorrow hath killed many, and there is no profit therein."

"I will bear that in mind, Preacher," Mal said evenly and headed up the stairs. Seven…

At the top River stood, or rather flowed, against the bulkhead. Girl 'peared clear-on crazy at this very moment, Mal decided, pushing past without stopping.

"What did he mean?" River asked after him. Mind reading the quote from him? Or the preacher? Or just heard their voices carry up the stairs?

Mal paused, glancing back at her. Now the girl looked all intent and not so crazy. Well, crazy in a different way.

"Beats me, sweetheart," Mal said. "Something about profits and killing. Sounded like a gorram plan to me. Now get on down and help your brother."

River gave him a long, perplexing look before dancing down the stairs. Mal watched after her until she turned the corner, then continued on with a sigh. Stopping in the engine room, he didn't dare step into the tangled mess of wiring Kaylee had constructed. A time or two he suspected her webs didn't have nothing to do with the engine at all. Mayhap made to snare him into buyin' her parts.

"Kaylee!" he called to the girl.

"Cap'n," came the answer from below and beside the engine. She wiggled out. Dirty, greasy, sweaty, in a snug little top with that teddy bear jumpsuit tied 'round her waist. Cute as a bug's ear, she was, in a little girl way that made Mal give an involuntary inward cringe. Doc was mad, blind, or sly as the day was long not to give this gal notice. Just as well. Just as gorram well. Didn't much like the notion of no dandy breaking Kaylee's heart.

Mal stepped back a mite as he took in the melty, mushy look Kaylee aimed at him. Over her own perplexions and movin' on to his. 他妈的ing great. Have to stomp this in the bud or there'd be gorram group hugs breaking out and nobody'd be getting over nothing.

"Not a word, Kaylee," Mal ordered sharply. "Not a word about nothing you heard nor saw. Understand me?"

It came out harsher than he'd intended, Mal realized when he saw her cringe back, but he let it slide. They'd all make good later. Much later.

"What is all this mess about?" Mal snapped. "What you done to my ship now?"

_My_ ship, Mal as much as heard Kaylee counter. She could be pretty snappy herownself when she had a mind to. "All that platinum I made look like engine parts and you couldn't spare one bit for real _engine parts_?"

Scowling, Mal shoved away from the doorway. "You don't fix what ain't broken," he called back over his shoulder. Parts for a Firefly weren't all that easy to come by. There'd been none on this world. Maybe next world they stopped at, or the next—if there was money left by then.

Dining room… Wash messed around in the kitchen. His turn for cooking? Mal had lost track. No doubt Zoe kept the assignments straight.

"Wash," he nodded, barely slowly down. No more gorram scenes or, worse, bonding moments. _Please._

"Captain," Wash answered coolly, but with a twinkle in his eye. He wanted to tweak Mal, he did, he did, he did. For now, at least, he appeared to rise above it. More'n likely that twitch of nobility had more to do with the noises that had been acomin' outta their bunk than any charitable kindness toward Mal.

"We on course?"

"In a round-about way," Wash answered. "Taking the long way to Inara's stop to throw any tracking off."

"Good," Mal said, still heading forward. Rather take the short way and be done with it. Seven… which one would bring the count down to six?

Zoe stood on the bridge, arms folded across her chest, staring out at the Black. She glanced over as Mal stepped up into his place beside her. "Sir," she said by way of greeting. He gave a short nod and stared out at the stars, and the voids between, with her.

"So, uh…" Mal started hesitantly. "Everything secure?"

"Secure," Zoe reported. She glanced at him. Their eyes held. Volumes were spoken between them. "For now," she added.

"Still a few tales Wash ain't heard," Mal murmured. Oh, the pure chastisement Zoe burned into him on that. "Maybe later," Mal amended quickly. He shifted and looked back into the Black, then flicked a quick glance back at her. "Maybe tell them to him as a Christmas present."

Oh, the look! Put Mal to mind on how Zoe knew even more ways to kill slow than he did. And he'd seen her put a few into practice.

They settled into silence. Side by side. Near but not touching. Felt right. Felt as it ought. Mal glanced back at Zoe. She met the look. In perfect sync. So much said without saying…

"Still flyin'?" was all Mal asked.

Her eyes smiled. "Still flyin'."

And That's a Wrap!  
Thanks for reading, and reviewing.

One short, post-moviesequel will follow soon...


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